


BelowMyth

by Gallavantula



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: BelowMyth, F/F, F/M, Gen, Human AU, Human Undertale, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-04-29 17:41:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5136815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallavantula/pseuds/Gallavantula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Undertale told if the cast shifted species. If Humans had been banished to the underground instead of monsters, what kind of differences would the story hold as Monster Frisk tried to get home through the kingdom of humans? </p>
<p>This is their story. </p>
<p>Undertale Human Au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Betrothed Faith

An audience with the king. It's a rare fine thing, to be called with purpose to the great ruler's castle, and Papyrus is all excitement. He cannot stop talking a mile a minute, prodding and chattering his brother to try and keep his nerves together. He talks about their grace, their abilities and how the king would surely accept them into the schooling for the royal guard.  Why else would he summon them all the way from Snowdin? 

Sans for once, was rather quiet despite his usual cheerful self, and even his attempts at jokes completely fell flat. It was almost hurtful how unresponsive he had become, but it would not douse Papyrus' energy! No, not for a moment! Their walk through the hotlands was brisk and quick, easily recalling this route from their prior visits and the imprint of visual landmarks. Both politely passed by vendors, greeting a few individuals here and there in passing before riding up the elevator within the core itself. It was then, as they walked past the skyline of the inner city of the kingdom that the weight finally fell upon Papyrus too. 

The taller brother peered over the edge, seeing the small rounds of activity in the windows, and the dreary, almost quiet over the city streets. Snowdin was small and minute, with perhaps a population just over 100 people. It was dispersed and the snow smothered sound which made it naturally quiet. But here. The King's castle had nearly 500 in population living here, yet it was as if they'd never left home. Papyrus swallowed gently as a woman spotted his peering eyes, and glumly drew her shutters closed. With a nervous swallow, he rubbed his hands together and rounded them over and over. 

"Sans..!" He quipped with nerves, and his younger brother hummed softly in reply. "Sans, has the city ever been this quiet?" 

Sans grunts softly, adjusting his step and slipper a moment before bringing a hand up to curl the end of his neck tail between his fingers. "Heh, no bro. Not quiet like this." And despite it's calming tone, Papyrus felt that it was not assuring in the least. No, instead he felt like it just sank the stones into his intestines. 

"Did that letter... tell of anything?" Papyrus asked again, shuffling along and hunching forward like he was some graveyard statue. This time Sans did not correct his skeletal posture. 

"Nope. Just a meeting with the King." Sans murmured gently, and with a wince Papyrus knew that Sans had woven his hair too tightly around his finger and probably pulled a hair or two free. 

"Oh, this does not bode well then, does it brother?" Papyrus lifted his hazel eyes up to the roof of the cavern for a moment, trying to trace between the crystal formations to see what patterns he could remember, but they were not Snowdin's 'sky cover'. Papyrus felt more alone, and scooted to walk closer to Sans’ side. It was as if he was some lost child sheltering behind their parent for cover. 

"No, it doesn't." Is the quiet reply, and Sans shut his eyes a moment as they walk around the next corner. He knew, the king would not know of them personally. Two young boys from a small village? They wanted to join the royal guard of course, but they had yet to even apply through the normal means just yet. Papyrus was only just old enough now to begin knight school, and Sans had another two years to grow. His height, would also pose a problem so he never got his hopes up much further than sparring with neighbourhood Knights and kids for practice. 

And yet, a personal letter had come to invite them here. Two guards stood by at the archway, and though they were politely stopped the kids felt nervous. A simple show of the wax stamp was enough for the Knights to relax, and a display of the letter and their names gave them blessings from both the man and woman in armour before they were free to pass. Sans nodded as Papyrus thanked them and waved, before the golden halls chilled them both to silence. Everyone has been within these halls at least twice to meet the king. But every time, the golden walls and panes of glass ushered in a humble detachment from the world around them. 

Passing the empty glass, both stopped to clutch their left fists, kiss the spot beneath their thumb nails and hold it to their chest. A prayer is made, and they reach up to release their hands to let their prayer free. It's a few moments after that another soldier strides up, and the posture and damage to the armour is enough to identify her on the spot, even if her calf length red hair didn’t. Everything about her was power and ferocity, even through the smile of the gap between her front teeth. It seemed like a natural part to her jaw,  despite the almost predatory shape it gave to her grin. The second sergeant of the royal guard cocked her hips to one side as she too, clutched her left fist to make a prayer and sent it up to the ceiling. The stillness was brief before her booming voice shattered it like the missing pane of glass. 

"You two must be the kids sent here by Asgore, right?" Undyne quips, and both give her a solemn nod. It's met with a bark of laughter and her armour shifts as she flexes her shoulders. "Glad you both made it over quickly! It was getting tiring waiting for you kids to show up!" She seems to have a whole speech set up to run down for them, and Papyrus almost looks too pleased by her demeanour to be properly wizened by this. Before she could get started however, a loud clang interrupted, and the heavy set doors at the end of the hall were slowly pushed over with the age old creak. Inside the room was a soldier peering through the crack of their lifted helmet. It was another woman's voice, and she ushered for silence with her finger. Undyne ground her teeth almost too aggressively and Papyrus jumped, adjusting his posture and running his hands over his pockets and shorts for comfort. 

"The king will be ready for you momentarily." The acolyte whispered, and turned to leave the door unattended before someone was there. She had no time to protest before she was nearly collided with; a distant sound of protest came, but the hulking figure heard nothing of it, pressing olive skinned hands to the frame and shoving the wood apart. Though at first Sans assumed it was the king himself rushing out, they were all surprised to see the queen instead. 

Her downy white hair was amiss, some bits tugged out of the golden filigree tresses tied down to her skull, and her beautiful lavender purple eyes were stained with tears and red blotches. Another sob rose from her armoured chest, and the queen's robes scattered around her as she took off towards them. Without a thought Undyne took both boys by their collars and yanked them almost to choking aside. It was enough, as Toriel cupped her mouth to stifle her indignant noises and clank down the hallway before meeting the guards to peel down the next length of floor. The whole situation felt surreal and shocking to the point that even Sans was left speechless.

"Miss Toriel..." Papyrus cried out quietly, and far far too late to change the scene that had just finished happening. Still, his hand rose, gesturing like taking a tissue, and he held it to his chest with prayer. His brother glanced to Undyne, and is shocked to see that she had done the same.

"Sergeant." Sans murmurs quietly, hoping to catch her attention as the knight peels open her single eye to pierce him with it's rich blue Sapphire colour. 

"What?" She almost spat back, and he could read the tension in her shoulders. Toriel is not one to be so vulnerable, no matter the cause. Her tenacity and strength paralleled Asgore in his compassion and kindness. To see her so wrought with grief like that…

"S'that why we were called?" His voice slid cooly back, and the sergeant knight grunted noncommittally before turning to look at the throne room. It was clear from here, that the king was standing in it's center with his own company. Many were kneeling to the floor, placing a blanket over something. Papyrus lifted a hand to chew at his finger, and Sans barely thought to raise his hand and stop him from eating through the material of the glove. 

This was grave, this was bad. If the two rulers of the underground were in such shape... just what had happened here? 

"Don't tell us... the monster child...?" Papyrus began, but made an eep of a sound before stumbling to stand behind his younger brother. Undyne's sharp gaze had spooked them both, but the moisture in her eye told of such a heavy burden that neither could fault her for her reaction. 

"The king will see you soon. I gotta, check for weapons." The Amazonian woman babbled weakly,  sniffling heavily as she invited Sans to come forward first. The short man obliged, peering up at this giantess as she leaned forward enough to run her hands down his sides, along his back and checked his hips and rump.  Any other day and he'd crack a flirtatious joke, but the way her eye glosses as she lowers herself to check down his legs shuts him up. Instead he admired the freckles over the bridge of her nose and down the sides of her cheekbones, peppering her skin like little copper stars. 

This was so unreal; and they knew nothing yet. Once done she gestures for him to switch, and Sans turns to step away as Papyrus stepped in himself. 

"P-Please warn the great Papyrus before you touch his rump. It makes him- I-I mean me! It makes me, really nervous!" He confessed loudly, and the woman looked partly baffled before bellowing loud laughter that was only partly forced before slamming her hand onto his shoulder for her guffaw. 

"You've got guts kid! I like it! Your butt's too small to hide anything so I won't check it. Scout's honour!" Undyne cackled as Papyrus blushed but extended his arms, and she set to work running her hands over him. By then, two of the company inside shuffled on by them, and Sans watched their hung heads and weepy eyes. What had even happened in there? His deep Citrine eyes peered back to the king like he needed to confirm for himself that the man wasn't standing there dead. His mind wandered to Papyrus' comment, and his chest tightened with pain. The monster child, from above... could they have died? 

Undyne stepped back then, giving a thumbs up and clearing them both. Both thank her and salute, which earns another deeper but far more genuine chuckle when she replies.

"You kids thinking about joining the guard?" Her deep blue eye glittered brilliantly at the question, gauntlets curled over her waist armour as she sits with them a little longer. From the throne room, a prayer of departure is being sung in soft timbres. Someone has died. Someone important. Shit. 

"Oh miss Sergeant! It has always been my dream and I, the great Papyrus along with my brother, Sans the Wise, will someday apply to the awesome school to learn!" Even with all his energy and gusto, Papyrus was still respectfully using talk volume. Sans breathed a sigh of relief, happy his brother had enough awareness to remember. He felt a little proud. 

"Heh, yeah. We're almost understudies for the Knights in Snowdin." Sans adds in, and it's then that Undyne lifts a hand to rub at her chin. Was that a scar that was peeling? Damn, she was fierce and sturdy as bones. 

"Good on ya both, then. Need more fierce and passionate soldiers enlisting to protect our citizens from attack and rogue monsters that fall down here!" Her thumb bumps over her heart on the left side of her chest with pride. "It's our job to keep our people safe in case any of them fall down here. But you both know that." 

They sure did. Didn't hurt to be a reminder though. 

"Of course, Ma'am." Sans smiled, though as the prayer began to close, it faded fast. They all settled into the grim atmosphere of what was happening in the other room, and turned again to peer together as the incense was sat burning in cups in seven points around where the king was. Sans only just clued in that the king was no longer standing,  but rather kneeling. The massive horns of the crown he wore looked grim from this angle too, shoulders hunched and hands, probably on the floor or crossed over his groin. It looked so militant but grievous too that both felt nearly stunned by the posture alone.   Papyrus was already shaking in the hands and knees, and Sans held out his hand to hold. It was accepted with an almost painfully quick grip. Sans winced as Papyrus ushered apologies and squeezed him tenderly, and received a soft ushered comfort back. Then, the robbed figures sat up, bowing to their king and dismissing themselves. The procession shuffled out in rows, before three sections of two and the leader tailing the back began to cross the threshold out into the hall. Like picking tissue from the air, all three picked at the group and clutched it to their left breast with a humble hanging of their head. The cloaked figures began to hum softly, starting up another prayer of cleansing and calmness on their exit.

Sans and Papyrus held their breath, breathing out in unison before turning their head up. By then the king had not moved at all, and at this distance if he breathed at all was impossible to tell. Undyne suddenly grabbed their shoulders, making them both jump but protest not. The Sargent of the guard guided them to move, and so all three began to progress inside. The massive hall looked more like a greeting lobby than anything else, and even the banners looked hoisted simply to bring colour and warmth to the massive block of a room this was. 

It was only coming inside that Sans could see the overturned chair at all. The queen's chair. Who would allow for something like that to sit there? Papyrus looked ready to protest such an insult to their sovereign when Undyne's piercing eye silenced him to a whimper. The trio came to stand behind Asgore, then, watching the shape of the King's shoulder and waiting. Undyne was not a patient woman.

"King Asgore. The prospects from Snowdin you sent for have arrived." She announces loudly, and the starkness of her voice bounces with such an alien tone against the walls that Papyrus flinched. Sans squeezed his hand in assurance, even in front of their king. It was only seconds after her voice died out in the room did their king move. His hands appeared at his crown, fingers curling around the vines and frame to lift it off, and it disappeared from view before his chest. They all breathed in sharply, almost willing to hold their breath until their leader donned his symbol of power again.   The tension was fictiously straining, even more so when the thud of metal rings strong and true throughout the room. The slide of gold comes, as slowly the crown rolled itself over once, twice, three times before roughly coming to rest on it's heavier front side a foot from Asgore's left. Undyne's hand trembled before she withdrew in a snap, saluting and holding posture for assurance. Sans realized how startling it was to see it discarded so easily, especially without knowing what was going on.

Before it could be stopped, Papyrus let go and ran forward. Sans barely managed to alert or make a noise to stop him, instead frozen to watch the tall bean pole lean down to draw up the crown, and check it over with delicate and sturdy hands. Stillness reigned and no one moved as he drew around his scarf to rub at a tarnished spot, polishing it clean before stepping closer to the king. Had Sans been in his place he would have kneeled and introduced his name and post before offering it up. Instead Papyrus stepped in like an old friend of the King's and held out the crown with a friendly smile.

"S-Sorry Mister King Asgore sir, you dropped this." The young man said, watching the King's face and feeling ignorant of the tear stains down his face. Those deep, deep violet eyes were fixated to the bundle of blankets on the floor, and Papyrus eventually relented to look, too. From a distance, the sheets would appear solid and pure black. Here... their transparency is a veil of horror. A young face the whole kingdom knew peered back at him. The violet eyes were soft like his mother's, but deep and expressive like his father's. Even in death, Asriel looked elegant, poised and warm. Papyrus felt something touch the crown, and flinched with concern as his head whipped to look into Asgore's face. 

He shared the same colour of olive skin of his wife, probably from the same region when they had been free roaming on the surface... Asgore nods slowly, finally broken free from his inner turmoil.

"...My apologies Papyrus. It must have slipped." The king murmured gently; Papyrus only smiled and helped him reclaim the crown and pet it a few times before letting go.

"S'ok. Only a smudge but I cleaned it." He confessed softly, already feeling humbled and shy for his ‘sudden out of character’ behaviour. But if the king did not scold him, no one would. Sans soon joined his side, trying to smile for the suffering sovereign. Asgore looked down to him and smiled, though it looked so small, cold and out of place on the man's face. Sans didn't know yet, but Papyrus was already staring at the blanket pile again. 

”Sans. Hello. You've both made wonderful time. Thank you, for treating my call with urgency." Gently, he inclined his head to bow that Sans went down on one knee to honour. The king reached forward, placing his hand on Sans’ left shoulder with a squeeze before the man gets himself up again.  

“We did not wish to have you wait for us, m’lord.” Sans murmured softly, glancing to his brother who shuffled over to put his gloved hands on Sans for support. Together, they peer up to their King as he dresses his crown of thorns again.  

“I thank you.” He murmurs lightly, and by then he glances back to Undyne. Wordlessly, they stare at one another for a long, drawn out moment before she huffs, shifts herself around and leaves the throne room. With her departure, the doors are slowly shut, and soldiers are stationed behind it. Now, left alone, Asgore breathes in gently, and turns to glance back to the pile.  

“Is… this why we are here?” Sans presses softly, trying to push forward in this and Asgore flinches, his curled golden hair shifting a little as he reaches up to move his bangs, adjusting to his crown again as he comes back to the now.  

“No. This…” He mumbled, taking his cloak and gathering it around him, almost obscuring the pile before him in the incense circle. “is a tragedy. This, will shake the kingdom.”   

Papyrus responds right away, digging his bony fingers into his brother until Sans winced and gasped, turning to look. His brother’s hazel eyes were focused on the blankets, though, and as his brother shifted to relieve the pain and looked over… he finally saw it. Though together, they both see the whole picture. Bruises, cuts. Strange, bloated patches of flesh and muscle. A cloak, beaten and bloodied, and a single, strangely furred hand. Two bodies. Two, young, growing bodies. One, mutated from contact with a monster soul. Sans almost gasped, capping his mouth in sheer terror. Papyrus pushed his waist into Sans’ back for support.   

The royal children.   

“I have called you both…” Asgore began, throat constricting with grief as he tried to work through it. The conversation turned both sets of eyes to his. “to build a proposition to you.” Sans already quirks a thick brow, mouth turning into a thin line of confusion.  

“An offer, to us?” He squeezed out, swallowing again to try and loosen the tension that held his throat there. Papyrus was rattling, knees pressed together as he tried to keep himself together.   

“Yes, to you both. The sons, of Sir Gaster.” Asgore murmured, and it took everything Sans had not to scowl and instantly throw around his attitude. No, not that man-  

“A-Asgore Sir-“ Papyrus squeaked worriedly, already drawing a hand up to chew on his finger before his brother hurriedly snatched it into his hand. Papyrus acted like he hadn’t even felt it, still maintaining eye contact.   

“We don’t, associate with that man anymore.” Sans quipped in just as quickly, holding a firm gaze. The king smiled patiently, then, and both knew at once that his patience is already thin. Shit. The monarch’s head tilted up, those deep purple eyes heavily focused upon them both. They both distinctively imagined that he could see into their very souls.   

“I understand. But. He is the head, of soul research, and the breaking of the barrier.” Asgore continues, and both swallow quietly their tongues. He was a king, and could demand as he pleased. They were lucky Asgore was just and fair enough to want to work with them for benefit instead of commanding their co-operation. “I believe, that you both could assist in this project. Perhaps, as I see it, not as his assistants anymore, but perhaps as lab technicians.” He watches them both, and though Sans seems enamoured, Papyrus is not.  

“Why us?” He pressed softly, and Sans nearly turned to look.  

“Because Gaster, is incredibly intelligent. And you both, display his wisdom in gifted, individualistic ways. We need, more minds cracking to save us hope.” Though the man chuckled deeply, and they both knew his concept of hope would be shattered. Especially with the death of both of his children, adopted and not. “We need, your help to protect human kind from dying out down here.” And again, Sans was fully in for this, and Papyrus was not.  

“Sir, I wanted to be a knight.” Papyrus defended, and Sans nearly swatted at him to scold him but the king moved forward. They both flinched and starred right back at him with humbled startledness.   

“I understand. You need to be accepted into the school first, yes?” Asgore undertoned, smiling so patiently at them both. Again, Sans knew this would be tolling so terribly on his mind, and feels bad for the timing. Still have to be a ruler first, before he can grieve as a parent…   

“Yes, that’s right!” Papyrus cried delightfully, excited about the thought and imprints going through his mind.   

“Well, you can still study and do work at once, once they accept your application.” Well, that seemed to be all Papyrus needed. Instantly the young boy was off, prattling on about his desire to join the royal guard and become a knight because he’s willing to make friends and be there for everyone. Asgore seems to be excited enough to listen, and his smile seems to become warmer and more genuine as Papyrus steps around, gesturing to the king with his gloved hands and wide spread arms. Sans was able to smile, glad to hear of these stories and the warmth of Asgore’s acceptance of their terms.   

But really, his spine crawls as he recalls over and over that they are talking beside two bodies. Two bodies of young children, that still haven’t been explained as to why they have died. So Sans felt bereft, unable to disconnect like his brother can before stepping in closer to the group to stand further away from the death beside them. They both turn to him, as he steps another foot closer and offers out his hand.  

“As long as Papyrus can pursue his dream, happily, and we can still live together…” and Asgore clasps his hand back in turn to complete the agreement, Sans held firmly back too.   

“I’m in.”


	2. Upheaval

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BelowMyth: The fall

“White?”

“Look, all white!”

“Haha, it’s like snow!”

“Don’t you know white is easy to dirty!”

“White is such an awful colour.”

“Eeeewww look it’s wearing blue today! Who said blue and white went together on you?”

“White fur?”

“White… so white…”

“You’ll get dirty if you play with us! Go home or something!”

“Why are you so ugly??”

“We’ve never seen a monster like you before.”

“Gross, don’t touch me!”

“Keep back! You’re not like my other friends! Why are you so quiet? J-Just say something!”

“Please, put this hood on… It will hide your face. Don’t worry about falling, just hold my hand. Trust me, I’ll take you home okay.”

“Don’t talk to us, freak.”

“Stay away!”

“So…. White. I’ve never seen a monster like that before…”

“Who’s parents are they? I don’t… think I’ve seen monsters that could make something like… that.”

“Don’t look directly at it, don’t make eye contact!”

“White…”

“White fur.”

“So pure looking, it’s ironic. No, wait, turn around I think it can hear us.”

“Hey you! Why the long face? C’mon, we’re friendly! Play with me and my boys, c’mon! We’re nice..!”

“I’m sorry, little one. This is only a trip for… monsters who can pay the fee. I’ll leave you colouring pages for homework this time, okay?”

“Freak! Freak! Freak! Freak! Freak! Freak! Freak!”

“Is it crying? Oh my Soliana, I think it’s crying! I can’t stop laughing!”

“Tell me… when was the last time your mother took you to the doctor? …Can you even speak?”

“Little Sheep! Little Sheep! Shepard told you not to make a peep! Swoosh ’n snap! Swoosh ’n snap! Looks like you fell for the wire trap! Now you’re dead! Now you’re dead! Time to cut off the freak sheep’s head!”

“What parents would be seen out with that?”

“Who would give birth to something like that? If I was their mother I would have left them in the cleaning basin to drown.”

“Hey… I’m sorry I scared you…”

“Freak! Freak! No one loves you, why don’t you leave and never come back?”

“Never come back!”

“Never come back! You aren’t a REAL monster!”

“No one would miss you if you left…”

“I’m sorry..!”

“Oh my precious child… I’m so… I’m so sorry…”

“Just take everything you have and go. Disappear into the night. Maybe… you’ll find someplace else that will make you happy. Maybe, you still have a chance.”

“Don’t forget me, okay?”

“Where is that… little brat? I want to… play with their soft… white… fur…”

“Don’t forget me! I love you!”

“…”

“….”

“……..”

“…..a.ke…..”

“W….ke……p…”

“Wake….up….!”

Suddenly, the expansive void of darkness and shrouded cover begins to lift, and the pain settles back into their tired, worn bones. There’s a rasp for breath and a shudder as the chest expands, pushing outwards to fully draw in the air needed to clear their mind. The burning bitterness comes next, scratching the throat, tongue and lungs with pin pricks of numbness and they begin to cough violently. Time spun and compressed against their head, crushing their weight down as if gravity had quadrupled in their slumber. The child whimpered softly, terribly sore from their heavy tumble down into this crevice, and slowly managed to curl themselves up into a ball.

Their voice whimpered softly as things slowly began to subside again, like fish decor having been stirred in a tank and only now began to settle again to the bottom. Their body hurt, less and less, and eventually they were able to open their eyes. Sunlight… Sunlight streamed down into the little space they’d manage to wake up in, illuminating the rock and dirt around them. The little monster lifted their snout, trying to smell the air… but it came back as distant and just dusty. There was, no trace of their things. The little monster shifted around a little, figuring out what felt bruised and what didn’t in order to roll over and sit up. By then, they could hear movement. Little beady eyes lifted up, squinting in the dark…

“There we go. I was wondering when you’d wake up!” Some chipper voice called, but it… didn’t sound quite right. Where was this person? The white furred being turned their head around, looking upwards for perhaps a bat like monster, or someone to be about… But there was no one.

“Over here!” It called out again, and as their head wobbled to look… a patch of flowers lay ahead. Flowers. Like the fields, outside of the city… Their paws gently touched the soil, dragging themselves forward even as they whimpered and favoured their right knee. Oh, it hurt, they must have fallen far…

“That’s right, come on! This way, this way…!” This child like, cartoon voice called, and though they had no idea where it was coming from they continued to approach the patch of flowers. Plants, they could… lay in them? Maybe eat them, food enough… Their soft finger pads found the lush grass, and they slowly lowered their head to lay there.

“…What are you doing?” The disembodied voice asks, and the monster grunts softly. Who cares what they were doing?

“…Don’t tell me you’re going to sleep there.” It muttered, and they almost thought it sounded bitter. They relaxed a moment there, blissfully quiet for a while before they had the energy to finally sit up. They drew their legs in closer, tucking down like sitting on a gym mat. Once their head levelled… they saw a giant flower. And like a child’s drawing from their class, it had a round and happy set of button eyes, and a black line for a smile.

“Howdy! I’m Flowey! Flowey the Flower!” It greets softly, eagerly bobbing it’s head side to side like waving it’s body towards them. They swallow, and keep themselves steady to wave their hand.

“…Not much for conversation, huh?” It gripes, it’s mouth twisting like it wasn’t entirely certain of itself anymore before brightening back up like a helium balloon. “Hmmmm. You’re new to the underground, aren’tcha? Golly, you must be so confused!” It’s body continued to wind side to side, and the longer they watched the more unnerved they felt. What did Flowey want?

“Someone ought to teach you how things work around here! I guess little old me will have to do.” And gently, slowly, they felt a presence pushing at their body. It was, not something unfamiliar to them at all, and rather common between monsters. But the fact that this strange being was calling to their very soul made them cautious, and their magic did not come out nor manifest any colour about them. It seemed, that one of it’s eyes twitched, not entirely pleased by the obvious sign of rejection.

“C’mon. You can trust me!” It cried softly, and from it’s stalk came six little white pellets. “I’m Flowey, your new friend! And I’ve got a lot of LOVE to share with you.” The flower wiggled further as those pellets solidified, and the white furred monster sat back onto their paws at that. No, this was, not something they could so easily trust…!

“These are… little ‘friendliness pellets’, and it’s how we gain LOVE down here! Isn’t that wonderful?” It smiled, winking at them before some disjointed laughter rang out. No, this thing was not their friend. That face warped, the smile spiking and shifting like a jaw of bone teeth, and the laughter came again as the pellets split again and again to rush around them like shepherding dogs. A shrill cry rises from their throat, scuffling back to try and escape but the circle was made. They were surrounded.

“You like to watch me suffer, don’t you?” The flower cried, it’s teeth showing like some buff grin and the little monster shook. Even down here, in the middle of the mountain they were not safe. No where was safe…! “Just DIE.” And it laughed, echoing all around them from wall to wall, rock to rock and back into their sensitive ears. They bleated weakly, shuffling before falling over and curling up tightly, tucking their head down to cover their ears. Death was coming. Finally, death was-

“Enough! What cretin would torment such a-!” Some powerful, strong voice pealed out, and the Flower cracked and turned itself over to look before a strong repellent shot was fired at it. The creature roared, struck by the magic projection and was deflected up into the air before soaring over a rock formation and disappearing from view. The monster turned over a little, turtling still to protect their vitals but able to see what was happening behind them. A woman, some mage, stood across from them, hand held out to reclaim the manifestation of her soul that she shot out to protect them. Her hand glowed lavender purple as the flames flickered, before fading back into her veins to recombine with her being. She was a powerful caster, and the monster’s rib cage pounded as their heart hammered down into it, panicked and afraid.

Though one threat was neutralized, another had appeared. The tall, domineering figure stared at them with open blank eyes, their light purple depths piercing and cold. They didn’t move further, feeling the sting on their injured knee but had no spirit to care for it, not under such scrutiny. The woman’s face was all that showed, a white headdress tied over and zipped up the back to tuck her hair away, and atop it was a hat affixed with some crest that the monster did not know. Her olive skin looked nearly sickly from the sunlight and the angle of her cloths, but the purple of her long robes shifted some life into her as she relaxed her posture. Hands settled to her sides, curiosity and concern creased the thin lines of her eyebrows and the thin softness of her lips.

“…Such a poor, innocent youth…” She murmured, and the monster had never heard of her spoken accent before. It sounded regal and quite proud, and the furred beast gave a gentle swallow as they wound their hand around to clutch at their leg. It hurt, it hurt so much but they would not cry. It’s then that she seemed to snap out of her daze and slowly strode forward, ushering her skirts with her as she stood into the sun. It’s then that her skin looks truly alive and her face soft. They almost feel soothed, just from the mothering tone of her spoken word.

“Do not be afraid of me, child… I am Toriel, keeper of the ruins…” She begins, slowly leaning in to kneel down on the tip of her toes, an arm gathered around her robes to keep her legs clear of obstructions. The little furred being tightened down more, trying to conceal themselves in the ground as they watch her carefully. She almost laughs, the corner of her pale lips turning up.

“I pass by here every three days for my rounds… You are lucky I happened to pass by on this day.” It was in the lasting silence between them that her hand came forward, showing it’s soft, smooth skin that was utterly inmonster of her. They have never seen anything like her before… Though the closer she got, the more their eyes shut to hide their face. What would she do…?

“You are hurt, little one… Come, let us get you somewhere safe.” The woman murmured, and the little monster nearly protested nervously, rattling like a leaf as her hands gathered them up. They felt so small, and helpless, bleating breathlessly with urgency. The older woman continued to usher them softly, curling their small body into her arms like carrying an infant, and rub down their back. Like this, they could only bleat again, tucking down before clasping to her shoulders and squeeze in tightly to hide their face. They were far from home, now. They fell and got hurt, and some monster disguised as a flower tried to kill them. Today, was not a good day at all, and the tears that sprang up could not be stopped.

Toriel, in turn, stared dead ahead. What had she done? Saving a monster from another… offering them such kindness, even though they were but an innocent child… Tucking her head down, she nestled with the young body in her embrace, feeling them tremble and sniffle near inaudibly. No… No matter, how this may seem to anyone else, this was the right choice. To save a life, of someone with no awareness of the context of what had happened down here… Toriel kept the little bundle in her arms safe, turning on her heel to begin the walk back. Over her shoulder, the little being tilted their head up, looking to the holes in the ceiling and the filtering sunlight…

They couldn’t, get back home that way… Defeated feeling, they tuck down their head and give a soft sob, small fingers digging into her cloths as they kept their talons tucked. Silence held over, as Toriel’s boots crunched over rock and gravel, beginning the minor journey back to the ruins. It was rather long, and the monster’s attention drifted between half sleep and daydreaming, trying to retreat into the depths of their own mind to escape the weight of their situation. Every now and again, Toriel’s large hand would rub their back, her throat gently shifting to hum a soft, and strange song. The tune was gentle, lilting and almost innocent sounding enough that they sighed and sagged to it’s calming rhythm.

Eventually the duo arrived, the glowing rock casting it’s purple light upon every surface around them. Toriel waved over the entrance, dispelling the protection she’d enchanted there to allow the little monster to pass through unharmed. Each puzzle was bypassed quietly and without explanation, only leaving her trail to show her guest what they had been spared from. They could only tremble again, imagining finding this building on their own and rushing to it’s doors for help only to be struck down by magic. The thought that at any moment they could have been murdered by these defences… it filled them with terror. Where were they being taken? The walls were stark and narrow, leading them over spike bridges and trick levers before arriving upon an inner building. The tree in the courtyard shed more red leaves, telling of a totally off season and confused plant.

As Toriel passed it, the little being held up a furred paw, almost as if waving in apology to it’s bark surface. The woman glanced behind her, confused for a moment but her companion was already hiding in her shoulder. Her eyes lift again to rove the scene, hoping to understand it’s logic before sighing softly and turning around. Not the time for this now. Humming gently still, Toriel walked into the house, her boots making a different sound on the wooden flooring. The monster turned their head over, peering down curiously to see as Toriel chuckled lightly, adjusting her grip.

“This is my home.” The woman whispered softly, waiting for her guest to turn to look at her again before continuing. Gazing at each other like this, she’s proud that she did not flinch nor startle as those bright purple eyes locked contact with hers. Woah. “Welcome… to my humble abode.”

Gently, the little being nodded their head, accepting her words. Toriel shifted her head curiously, waiting for an answer that never came. A quiet one, huh? Perhaps it did not know to speak, either. Well, no matter. Steadily Toriel walked down the right side of the hall, passing the first door before entering it. A simple, tiny little bedroom, and as the monster turned over their shoulder to look, they realized it was a child’s room. Woah…

“Now I’m going to need you to sit still for me, and once we get you changed you can be cleaned up, okay?” Toriel spoke softly and carefully, walking over to the bed to hunch over and deposit her little guest. They bleated worriedly, trying to latch onto Toriel’s hood and keep in her arms but she was stronger. Some of the hooks came undone, and as they cried with worry at finally being settled down, she laughed as some of her ropey silver hair slipped free.

“Calm now, it’s okay! It’s alright…” She continued to assure, gently petting down their shoulders and back to calm the frightened noises that continued to slip past their lips. Once she got past the shape of their face and the length of their ears… it was just another lost child, trapped down here with them. Pity, really, but Toriel was prepared this time. Shifting herself aside, she reached up on the shelf for a box, and brought it down. The whole time the monster’s little head followed, trying to anticipate this new foreign item being introduced. The caretaker gently opened it up, and showed the elements inside. Gauze. Bandaids. Wrap scissors. Tape. Alcohol wipes. But very, very dated things.

Still, it was enough to calm them greatly, and the little monster sagged with fatigue. It seemed consent enough that Toriel leaned over to remove their pants, freeing the fluff of their tail and showing the scrapes and cuts on their legs. Instead of hooves, she found three toed feet, and her hands did not hesitate to explore and touch them. Her guest quivered worriedly until she recalled herself, and began to treat them for their wounds. It was long work, patiently waiting between spurts of nervousness and trembling woes to calm down the furred beast before continuing her treatments. Eventually, she dressed them in new cloths, a simple striped shirt and shorts, before putting away her kit.

“There, isn’t that better?” Toriel whispered quietly, and her smile only grew as the little child yawned and curled in on themselves. Tired after such an ordeal, she couldn’t blame them, not at all. “Come on now, crawl in. Sleep for now, and we can talk about your situation in the morning. Alright? Come now, let’s get some rest.” Her hands urged just as gently as her voice, helping the little one crawl over to the pillow and help them curl up before tucking them in. It’s then, as she thinks to wish them good night to rest for tomorrow that it dawns on her.

“Little one?” She croons gently, and their little muzzle peeks up over the sheets beneath the mop of hair on their head. Alright, so they do understand her instead of simple dumb luck.

“What is your name?” Her hand comes up, petting the stray strands out of their face as their eyes blink groggily at her. They mouth to something, but it’s not quite slow enough for her to guess.

“Once more.” Is the gentle plea, and they smile patiently to her before touting every letter. Their teeth pinch to their lip as they blow. F. They bear their teeth gently and roll the tip of their tongue. R. Their lips draw back, and click softly. I. They then part their lips for their teeth to hiss. S. and with a click of their tongue from the roof of their mouth, it gives a final kick. K.

“Frisk.” Toriel assembled finally, smiling as she ruffled their hair. “Frisk, what a lovely name. Now, sleep well. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” Though she leaned forward, then, Toriel blinked before retreating. Her hand waved, and the woman hurried to usher herself out before closing the door. Frisk sat like that a few moments, trying to understand what she had meant to do… Perhaps, it was to kiss their head for rest. Whatever the case, eventually they rolled over and tucked the blankets over their head.

Before long, Frisk had fallen asleep, snoring softly between the warmth of the sheets.


	3. The True Heartache

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a general warning for allusions to abuse, specifically to a child. 
> 
> It's not direct, but there is very much a crisis about it. Toriel experiences it through a link. You've been warned.

The morning after, and after that was rather the same. Each one, Frisk awoke, rolled over and saw a slice of pie awaiting them on the floor. Each morning they would climb down from their bed, mosey on over to the plate to sit, and slowly eat through it. Each bite was unique, either stronger flavour of cinnamon or butterscotch to start up their morning on a sugar buzz. Once that was done, they used their flat tongue to lick the plate clean, and go to find Toriel in the living room. It was, a quick journey down the hall on the right, though they took their time looking over the paintings, flowers and the rope tied up over the stair case. It had no signs or anything, but they could tell they should not go down that way.

Frisk gives it a pass to find the human woman in her chair, reading some massive tome in such a way that was more to pass the time rather than enjoy it for leisure. Seeing Frisk out of the corner of her eye, Toriel greets them kindly with an offering of more food, and tells them to stay safely inside where she can protect them. Frisk gives a warble of protest, already beginning to bounce up and down on their toes to show their energy, but this only earns a sharp closure of her book. They startle, leaping back a little as her cold eyes watch them over a small smile. It was a face they knew too well; one did not brook argument with it. Still the little monster huffed and dropped to the floor in a heap, again a display of displeasure but Toriel only hummed quietly in reply.

“It is for your own good. There are other humans who help maintain the ruins, and if they saw you without me, you’d not be safe.” Toriel murmured quietly, and it was enough to silence Frisk entirely. The human was surprised the monster was so obedient, and instead got up to begin preparing the soup for lunch. Time crawled on long and boringly, resulting in a very stir crazy Frisk to explore the whole floor they could. First they started off with the book case in the corner, trying to pick through the books, though they were all in languages Frisk could not read. Bored of that effort rather quickly, Frisk looked about the room and found nothing much else to look at. The side tables had little lost buttons and pins and pencils with joke books in them, which were again in a language they did not understand. With a grunt, Frisk left to explore their room instead.

Looking through toys though… some fell to shambles the moment they were picked up. A strange, six legged pig faced winged doll’s head rolled free when they had tried to hug it, and Toriel ushered in quickly to toss the garbage away when she’d found it’s disintegrated remains on their shirt. Before long, they’d bounced on their bed long enough for that to grow dull, and began trying on the shoes from the box in the corner. Some looked human, some looked monster made, and the thought that other monsters had lived here once gave them hope. Once they’d frisked the whole of their guest room and found tiny puzzles and toys they had no idea how to play with, the space lost it’s spark of interest. Frisk moved on to investigate elsewhere.

Eventually they discovered that their paw pads were covered in fur enough to accidentally slip on the wooden flooring, so for an hour they tore down the hall and moved the carpets for them to skate from end to end on their wobbly legs. It was enough fun that they began to almost wheeze hoarsely from it, laughing and falling onto the pile of rugs to giggle and catch their breath before going again. The game ended when Toriel came about the corner, and her shrill gasp of concern startled Frisk into losing balance and falling flat onto their face with a distorted honk. Instantly the tall caretaker was there, fretting and scolding like some church nun. With a heavy grip they were hauled out to their room, and treated for the bleeding and scuffed end of their muzzle.

Day three was much the same, sitting for lunch with Toriel and trying not to let the enclosed space get to them. Toriel was an adult, and they knew she knew what was best down here… But the thought that she would never try to take them home clung harder to them, even as she scolded them from licking the bowl with their tongue again. After that, she was busy doing something else outside the house and Frisk was bored. So, utterly bored. What were they supposed to do? They weren’t some house animal that needed care! They…

They needed to…

…Well.

…..Frisk ran away from home, for a reason… This meant that no one would really know where to look, if they even cared to. The little monster child sighed, and laid in the middle of the hallway waiting for Toriel to come home. Please…? Please be back soon…? However long passed after that, lightly sleeping there sprawled out when the door opened. Toriel peeked inside, startled to see them there and almost gasped loudly as a result. With a nervous laugh, the guardian slid inside the door, closing it behind her to put her bags down. Her hands trembled gently from the relief of weight, and leaned over to gather the little body into her arms instead. Frisk lolled their head back before she supported it, and with ease she was able to stand and cradle the child. Must have worn themselves out…

The ideal was to take them back to their room to put them to bed, but the more she walked and bobbed with them, the more aware they became before Toriel had little hands grasping at her head piece. She laughed softly, reaching up to stop those tiny hands from making a mess of her outfit and well… stop them from touching her too much. It still felt odd, to know this child was not human in her embrace. The way their furred fingers brushed against her skin was more akin to a companion animal than the flesh of human children she’d come to care for, and the flash of their talons sliding in and out of their fingers was just too much not to notice sometimes. Still, the instinct to care and nurture came so naturally to her despite the ages of time since her own, and she supposed that they needed a care taker after all… It was interesting to see that they were capable of smiling still, despite the muzzle. And smile brightly they did, giving chuckles that were more rasps of air than anything else.

Once she got to their room, Toriel began to usher to them softly and quietly to calm their energy back down to bed time. They settled onto the bed, little white tail wagging over the waistband of their shorts and latched onto her head piece again with a firm sound that was more commanding than it should have sounded. Toriel patiently laughed, reaching for their hands as she ignored her weak tremble.

“Now now, settle down, settle down…” She chastised softly, and they whimper lightly, withdrawing to sit on her kneeling leg. No, no, this would not do… She tried to shift them back onto the bed, but they either did not understand and kept shifting to step on or near her, or they simply did not want to be apart from her. Still, her patient smile was thinning, and she had groceries to take back to the fridge.

“Please Frisk, sit.” Toriel begged softly, pleading and trying to bring those hands away from her head and face to get the little monster to calm. She’s seen this kind of behaviour before, and it makes her heart ache. “Please…! Please Frisk, be a good little child- Frisk-!” She clips quickly, grabbing harder onto those hands as they snuck some of her hair free with a painful yank. But Frisk was clearly not willing to have any of this, and squawked loudly with a rush of air out of their lungs to startle them both into silence. They stared at each other intently, Toriel’s mouth half open and Frisk’s set in a determined grimace.

“…What is it?” She thinks to actually ask, then, and Frisk grumps loudly before nodding their head. That is what they wanted, and calmed to sit on her knee again. Begrudgingly, Toriel sat still this time.

“What is wrong, Frisk? I have groceries for dinner to put away…” Toriel murmurs quickly and cooly, trying to close herself off and cross her arms. Frisk is quick to imitate her, crossing their arms over their chest and tilting their head up to look like they were scolding her. The action, only earned the quirking of her eyebrow. This lack of communication from them was beginning to become a frustration. Perhaps, a reason as to why they were acting out? Still Toriel was tiring of these games. She wasn’t the same woman from her two hundreds, and this was just getting out of hand.

“I do not have the time to be playing games with you, Frisk. We can get to this after dinner-“ She starts, already breaking eye contact to glance away and scan the room. It was such a mess, already! The shoes… Oh, they’ve dug through and strewn the shoes everywhere- Their hands are on her face again and Toriel nearly jumps out of her robes. She hadn’t felt the bed move at all, nor their weight shift to touch her and it nearly made her heart stop. Instead, her eyes shift to move to look at the little face peering into her own, and quite proudly they withdraw their left hand to point up at the ceiling, and repeat the motion with insistence. Her face is troubled before she can mask it, and the very real thought of playing a joke comes into her mind faster than she’d like to admit.

“…Is the ceiling scaring you?” Comes the joke anyway, and she can tell the moment Frisk realized that she had been trying to avoid their question. Their other hand moves away from her, and it takes another quick moment to process their talons had come free from frustration. A thrill of fear rises through her breast and Toriel grips the bed sheets tightly. It surprises her, how quickly she’d forgotten that despite their nature and how much they’ve listened to her thus far, they were still far more armed their body was than she could be at any given moment. Her heart steels over as they point up again, and trill and bleat with something that needed no words to express. They wanted to go home. 

But that was not an option, anymore. Her face dresses the most docile, kind expression she can muster and their face is painfully and alarmingly blank for it.

“I’m sorry Frisk, but… This is your home now.” They don’t seem to move or respond, and Toriel genuinely allows herself the thought that maybe they just don’t understand complex language. Her hand extends and she tries to pat their arm, but they tear it out of range and step back from her so suddenly that her hand retreats like Frisk had burned her. “You will live here, with me, and be safe. I’ll protect you.” Toriel promises more fiercely, but Frisk is still detached and cold. That was alright. Most… didn’t accept their fate so easily like that.

“Here, I can teach you. give you, an education. Slowly, introduce you to the monks here in the ruins. Some have kids that you can play with, and we can learn how to solve the puzzles together…” For a vulnerable moment, Toriel allows her mind to paint this future for them. This child, so like the one… So like… Her hands tremble, holding the sheets but Frisk is barely moving other than their nostrils to breathe. Her throat fills with bile, and it takes three tries to swallow it all down. “I’ll show you, how life can be down here… I’ll share, my favourite well spot to sit at, and sing into it’s depths… Frisk, I know it’s not like home, I know, please believe me…” Toriel pleads, reaching for their hand again. They don’t flinch back, instead curling their hand to stop their talons from touching her. Toriel smiles more warmly and tries to show her appreciation of the gesture.

“It’s not like your world, and I wish I could make it different. But monsters who fall down here… They live here with me. I’ve taken care of monsters before, and you can be happy here. I promise you this.” It explains the toys, the shoes that Frisk had looked at. Their head turns, to regard the mess of things they’ve made, and Toriel lightly rubs her thumb over their knuckles to earn their trust again. “It will be hard, but I’ll teach you sign language. So you can communicate better. You’ll make new friends who will love you, and take care of you.” The more she talked… the more Frisk felt frustrated. This, sounded so perfect. So ideal. Home was hell compared to this, and the promise of happiness? Of a new life here? It sounded far too good to be true. Too good…

“I’ll be a good mom to you, I can.” Toriel urged, but apparently it had been the wrong thing to say. The cry they made was as if they’d been stricken, and their body coiled with such a starting amount of pain that even Toriel shifted back from the bed to stand again. Frisk made another cry- A protest? A plea? Before they shot off like a maddened rabbit for the door. Toriel was still so startled by this change of pace, the sudden shift from quiet, close pleading to the hysterical sounds coming from the hall in Frisk’s wake. Oh no.

“Frisk! Frisk come back!” The keeper shot off as quickly as she could manage, wrenching the rest of the door open to see Frisk sliding into one of her planters and throwing the pot to the floor in a clatter of shards and spattering water. The side of Frisk’s leg is drenched and it only makes them shriek until the rush of air couldn’t produce sound any longer, and off they went on all four legs. Toriel summoned her energy, trying for a trap to keep them still but it only makes them veer away from the front door to the tape. Their momentum tears through the taunt strands and makes them snap all at once. The strike of energy and the release of that tension sends them spinning off in a tangle, tearing down half the signs and throwing their body down the steps with loud thumps and a clatter. The stone down there is far smoother than the flooring up here, and Toriel sees blood in her mind’s eye before even being close enough to look.

Toriel grasps the handle of the railing to lean over just as Frisk rolls to the bottom, and her cry to call out to them catches in her throat as she hears their talons clicking and sliding with great difficulty on the smooth stone. No, they were okay but they can’t-

“FRISK!” She screamed with panic, wrenching her weight around the railing and skipping a step at a time. No, the door- The blasted door-!

“Frisk! Frisk honey, come back! I’m sorry! Frisk! FRISK!” Toriel was not herself at all, her cries rising in tone and the pitch rattling off bizarrely and without real finish before she starts again. The moment she reaches the bottom, her eyes see the only source that isn’t purple, scrabbling with everything they had for purchase in this tight passage.

“Frisk!” She called again, futilely. Her voice bounced about them like a mockery of a choir, and it made her bones shiver. No, not again- A flash of pain clutches to her chest, and without a thought Toriel runs. Frisk’s little pained noises are like rain on a tin roof, puncturing the air as they turn the corner. No, no no no-!

“FRISK! PLEASE!” But it’s no use- The door. They slide to a stop, little chest heaving and their sob is noisy. It feels so human in that moment, even as Toriel rushed the corner and nearly slid atop of them from the lack of purchase in her shoes. The child was curled up, nearly against the door and turned to tearfully look at her.

“Frisk…” She pleaded, and a fat, wet tear leaked down their cheek and landed on the floor. Though their lips moved, it was without a sound that came from their mouth. But Toriel knew. She knew what was being said, and her whole body seemed paralyzed.

‘Please don’t hurt me, Mommy.’

It repeated, again and again, like the tip of a bade piercing the skin over her breast to layer in each warning. Toriel grunted in pain, clutching to her robes as moisture collected there. Wh-What-? Her eyes pricked with tears, and without warning they spilled over. The child’s eyes glittered red as they locked contact, and Toriel suddenly understood what was happening right there and then. 

‘Please Mommy, I’m so sorry.’

Frisk’s memory cried out to her, and their reading, their aura. It was red. A red, vibrant soul. Toriel sobbed, dropping to her knees before them. The door creaked, the wood being disturbed by the atmosphere surrounding it and changing the pressure of the grain. Her arms found the floor, hands shaking and pulsing from hot to numb in time with her double here beat. Frisk…! Frisk…!

‘Don’t hurt me anymore.’  
‘Please, Mommy…!’

“Frisk…! I’m sorry…” Toriel rasped out, shuffling herself closer and it’s then she can see further into what was happening. Their soul had released, pulsing powerfully to protect themselves the only way they knew how. But the release was huge, and they didn’t know how to call it back. Their tears continued to fall, soaking their fur into trails as it kept trailing from their red, brilliantly shinning eyes. She cried, feeling their pain, their suffering. She didn’t know. She hadn’t known.

“Frisk… It’s okay… I’m not, your mother. I’m not…!” Though it hurt. Because Toriel thought that maybe someday she could have been. Could have been something more to this poor little child… No. They… were stronger than that. “Grasp to it, Frisk… Don’t, let yourself go.”

But they weren’t listening. They couldn’t hear past the lashing of pain, and their throat- Toriel choked, kneeling forward to grasp at her neck and cough as the pain began to bloom. No- If this went on- “F-Fris-sk-“ The woman gurgled, struggling to even breathe now as the pain closed tighter and tighter. It felt like wire, looping tighter into her flesh- Her squeal of pain was sudden and as suddenly the pain was released. Her body jerks from the change and collapsed, coughing hard and rolling onto her side to clear the blessed airways. Breath came in shudders as coughing continued through the pain. Though awareness around her came in and out because of her body, she felt what was happening through her own soul.

Frisk had reacted the moment they felt Toriel’s pain, and all at once collected their soul like whisps of cotton fuzz back within their body. The trembling power of it relapsed and closed back in on itself like a pocket knife, hiding away behind their closed, slitted eyes as they rolled over to her. Just as suddenly the ordeal was done, and Frisk was petting over her shaking shoulders, fretting over her form. If Toriel could laugh, she might have. The whole situation just felt so sureal to her and her heart…. her soul ached so terribly. This monster was just, so painfully familiar to her, and yet… Frisk… 

“W-....H-....” She tries to speak, but her throat is still burning so powerfully that it takes all her strength just to cough. Frisk is patient, waiting, petting over her head like they were the parent in this situation. It was almost funny, and Toriel allowed her eyes to close as she laid there. No… This child, this monster… Despite her wishes, they could not stay here. The very warmth of their soul next to hers… She knew, they would not mix well. No, not at all. The red of their power, the fierceness of their soul against hers… Fate was pulling strings, and her legs curled up as she knew she was losing to it. Again. The pulse of power had been enough, it seems, and the aching of the door begins anew as it unlocks and clicks. Fate seemed to tug upon it’s front, unlocking the magical mechanism that kept it sealed for so long. 

The seams cracked and paint peeled and flaked to the floor. From the air that rushed free, a cool, moisture seeped inside and stirred her body to goose bumps. Cold. There was, such a frigid chill that rose from the breeze that blew over them both and began to moan down the tight hallway of her home. Her robes began to stir, and slowly her eyes peeled open to watch. The massive, palm thick doors swung heavily open, opening up to the skeletal rows of frozen stiff trees. Snow dribbled over from the outer seams and slumped onto the floor, already melting from the contact. Such a barrier, had kept the temperatures separate and now the mixing of the two was causing a reaction on either side. Most importantly, Frisk had stopped touching her, and was staring out into the snowy path. 

Both of them, could feel the awning tug of departure, and a journey. Frisk had much to travel, and further to go. Toriel knew, though she hated to accept such a solution. So her hand came, and gently touched over Frisk’s chest. The touch makes them flinch a little sure, but their head whips around to look, more concerned than anything else. From Toriel’s palm, their souls brushed and touched so gently, so kindly that a sigh was shared between each. Then as if nothing had happened, Toriel’s hand fell. 

‘I’ll be alright, little one.’ Her voice carried through her heart and into theirs, like they had done before. It saved the effort of her throat. Frisk blinked, extending their tongue nervously to lick at their lips as they gently pressed a hand to her collarbone to try and do the same. It didn’t work. Toriel chuckled through the link.

‘Don’t worry, that’s a skill that comes with time. Now… You wanted to go home, right?’ Their little head bobs so quickly that their ears flop this way and that, and her face draws a smile. So… precious… 

‘You must, reach the castle across the land. ASGORE, sits before the barrier. With my power, and yours… you could go home.’ Her eyes water, and Frisk makes a bleat to fret over her. Their thumb comes to brush over her skin, moving the moisture away… and really, Toriel wept more. How could such a little thing be so alien, yet so human at once…? 

‘I’ll be fine. My friends, will find me. You, need to go.’ The wind picked up, shaking the branches of the trees and rattling like crunching leaves. It was, almost beckoning, and Frisk began to sit up. Toriel didn’t want them to leave. She feared, that they would die out there before they even set foot near the castle. But their soul, the hot molten heat of that red aura protected them from the cold entirely, and their lips set in such a fierce look that her protest was silenced before it could form. No. This was, foolish, and stupid, and she was an idiot for allowing a young mind to go out alone…

Frisk pet her head one last time, blew her a kiss, and turned around. They began to walk, seemingly unbothered by the cold snow beneath the pads of their feet. Head held high, they passed the arch of the door, and trudged forth into the winter cold. Toriel laid there, breathing and recovering her wits and body. She watched that little blue shirt, and the white fur and hair move on, and on… and on… until finally, they were nothing in the distance of white and black of the forest. 

‘...I’m sorry…. I let you go…’


	4. Neglectful: Interlude Alpha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief peer into the dwellings of the rest of the underground.
> 
> OR, the knight and rook begin to move.

The streets of the castle city were bustling with activity from mid-day lunch, the few errand running shoppers hurrying to and fro to get their bags and get home. Children were rather quiet, following their parents or running their own errands with a polite but evasive swiftness. People watching wasn’t something Undyne was overly fond of but it passed the time fondly enough. At least, with some relief to her post. Undyne had been asked to keep guard, standing by the elevator from the common castle grounds of the streets up to the main floor of Asgore’s dwellings. The idea, was that anyone without a call to those halls would be turned away to do business another day, and those who did would be screened for the reason before being allowed up. Her presence alone was a deterrent to those brave enough to try anyway, and many avoided the elevator quite clearly from the very sight of her ebony armour.

Still, despite being there since after dinner the day before and pulling no breaks, it had not been soon enough to stop the flow of people’s best wishes. Flowers, dolls, garlands and decorations had already been set up all around the elevator doors, and letters and hearts in yellow had been stuck up with many heart felt apologies and loving replies. It was, a touching gesture from the inhabitants for sure, and even Undyne was tempted to collect things to leave for the king to sort through months later… but last year’s attempt had only upset her king to immobility. Instead of risking another instance like it, Undyne stands guard on this day, keeping any sympathizers from trying to reach out to the king and disturb his one day he’s allowed himself to grieve.

It was boring work, tedious work. Undyne was already dulled out of her mind and the fierce knight’s eye was half lidded beneath her helmet as the hours dragged on. Other than what the day held for, she hated the dull shift of guard duty. It almost made her feel like she was barely 80 again, challenging Asgore to fight and learning the ins and outs of soul magic. Those days had a memory of lightness to it from the surface that was, year after year, going harder to connect to. It didn’t matter that she’d lived down here since the faithful day of the attack, there was only habituating to the new realm and outgrowing the old one… Undyne shook herself and sharpened her mind. Guard duty. Focus. The effort latest half an hour before her mind began to drift and churn and reminisce. Being brought on to the guard, playing in the castle fields and watching the sun burn at the precipice of evening after hours of training and sparring…

The very memory of laying in that grass as the moon crested up, sharing her dreams with the olive skinned king like he was a parent, a lover, a sibling… A friend, unlike any other in her life… The way they’d clash swords like they would give it their all for that very moment before walking home in bruises and cuts with smiles the next… She’d found such attachment, such reason of being and spice for life that it was impossible for her not to swear her fealty to Asgore. Undyne couldn’t have ever imagined a world without her being by his majesty’s side, defending him and protecting the people he loves. The powerful emotions that coursed through her, the fondness she radiated had her slacking. Her posture picked up as she came back to the present with a snap of her armour.

A little boy, had darted up towards the pile and dropped a bouquet of flowers from his clammy hands, squeaking when her helmet turned to regard him and off he shot, faster than she’d care to even spook him off for. The laughter she put forth was for show really, to anchor herself into the present. The towns people around her all gave smiles and half hearted laughs, habituated by her behaviours and continued their business. It was a warm thing to understand and experience, to feel such joy in being able to touch people even just with her voice. She’s grown up with these people, helped watch over the delivery of the children and helped hold them in towels before they even had a name. She’s protected them from cave ins and starved during the worst of famines the humans have ever faced in their history. Each one meant the world to her, and in turn many tipped their hats and heads towards her in passing.

Without missing a beat, she tilted her head and bowed to them in turn.

The monotony of the afternoon was cut short when she felt a pulse. Her aura throbbed, rattling about inside her armour enough that she sent a signal dart towards her king. His soul was still closed off, the hue of his being wobbling and wavering from it’s closure. It wasn’t from him, and that meant it was something else. Something further… Undyne’s hand nearly strained the metal of her gauntlets, gripping at each elbow with tension as she compartmentalized every possiblity. Her wavelength then, broadened out even as it shook, and Undyne nearly gasped out loud. No, this purple, lavender hue was Toriel’s. Though it had called sharply for help before, it was awning now and that could only mean one thing.

With a tilt of her helmet, Undyne glanced up to the surface of the cavern, as if she could see the colours from this distance alone. Her sharp eye though, caught the stream of magic that wound over the surface of every rock face and hanging stalactite. The usual pulse of purple, yellow and white was common and easy to read. But… there was a thin strip of red, dancing and spinning about the silvery purple of Toriel’s stream…

The knight ground her teeth, setting herself straight and spreading her hand. Her green signal pulsed strongly, calling the nearest soldiers to her on the double. The energy about her had changed, and so had the people. Some picked up, feeling urgency in their bones and gathered their tea cups and plates and things before shuffling off home. Dinner was soon, right? I think, I forgot to pick up the carrots for mom, earlier… Did I clean that rabbit cage? What screw was loose again…? Before the first soldiers had shown their faces, the very area had dried up of activity. The store fronts are shut tight, and no one is milling about. The two come to stand before Undyne, and salute. They knew her enough by now that any measure of such an urgent call instead of her showing up to fetch them.

“Sir!” They cry in unison, and Undyne salutes her hand to her left breast with a clank.

“I need you both to sit the post here, until someone relieves you. Or the day is through. Whatever!” Undyne almost spits, and both men are nearly trembling in their armour at this point. Her erratic nature has never been something new, but the fact she was already walking away…? Something was up.

“Stay here, don’t let any stragglers get to Asgore, alright? I gotta, go see the Ruins outpost. Tell reinforcements to keep on their toes, got it?” And with an I’m watching you gesture, Undyne takes off, rushing towards the next elevator off towards the ledge leading to the core and it’s elevations. Something new had happened, and Undyne wasn’t going to let anything happen to disturb the king. With a fierce leap, she’s hooking onto the eaves trough to leverage her weight up onto the roof, and pelts it. That red flicker, is getting smaller by the moment, and she knows from the way the silver purple flickers that Toriel is alive, but the brush was close. Too close.

Undyne leaps, smashing her fist into the door button to call the elevator. She hopes Sans and Papyrus are on duty, today, because there would be hell to pay. Her teeth grind and set, waiting, waiting, waiting. These lousy, slow things took ages to activate, didn’t they? Decrepid, crumbling technology. The magic down here was already failing. Her mind slides from that chain of thought, unwilling to muse upon the struggles that could not be changed. No point fretting over something that has been and always was inevitable. The doors slide open, inviting her inside with a firm turn and another punch to the keys. They whine and stay down instead of popping back up, but she has no compassion for the technology.

In a moment, she decides that Alphys would be the answer. The witch would be watching all the outpost triggers, and if Toriel’s was still running… Well, then Alphys would know what was going on over there. If it was nothing, Undyne would return to her post like nothing had even happened. But if something had happened… Her mind drew out, trying to latch on the stream again to check upon it, and her concern was realized. The thin, spinning red thread she’d witnessed earlier had vanished from the stream entirely.

Whatever it was, it was moving around. Lords of Pyrus, she could only clutch to her left breast and pray, sending it up to meet the stream in their stony sky. Please, pray that Toriel is alive and safe…

\- - -

The trigger of the door had been something so surreal and out of place that Alphys had ignored it at first. Only a select few magic warnings sounded like it, and it was something of a near impossibility that Alphys had no idea what it meant. Another stupid note for enchanted water? Fish it from the well yourself! She had more important things to be doing right now! Sir Wells, had finally entered Arthur’s chambers and… The short, petite woman snarled and sent a volley of sparks at the sound to silence it. But she’s done this so many times that a barrier was created to stop her from silencing things the easy way, and it continued to flash and blare with aggression. Her aggravation wore on, and eventually she was forced to pull her face from her book to look at the orb that insistently flew about her head.

Before she could shut the stupid thing up, it’s colour registered next. Her thin, rotund hand pulled at her glasses, adjusting the lenses to help her see in a new contrast and by then she’s gasping and jumping to her feet.

“Red?? Why are you RED?!” Alphys shrilly cried, jumping down from her stack of books, to a smaller stack, to the stool that started it all to the floor, and picked up her robes to begin running into the next room. The orb followed her like a haunted litwick, needing to keep in her range at all times until the problem was dealt with. But really, the colour was enough of a warning to keep her light on her toes and scurrying as quickly as her little body could take her into the main lobby of her domain tower. There, all the surfaces of her work station had been stained in that red light. The room looked more like a generator than anything else; the walls had seven layers of bulb looking rows that were affixed to small wire arms, and each had a label beneath to explain which region they gave vigil to.

All the bulbs for the ruins were lit red, and the first bulb for Snowdin’s path had lit up and pulsed, hence the floating orb chasing and whizzing around her head insistently like a hungry cat. Alphys waved her hand, trying to get her head space clear for her to shimmy up the stack of books before her desk and settle herself onto her chair. Wiggling herself to get comfy, her hands wiggle too and gesture towards the screen before her. Yellow magic buzzed and activated, skirting over her finger nails and bolting towards the screen to dance on it’s surface before sinking beneath the inky colour of the glass. Then, fuelled enough, the computer powered on, groaning and shuddering as the pulleys and cogs and things came to life. It whirred as the fans started up, and Alphys gave a sigh of relief as the lights blinked on. The room already seemed a degree hotter, and her hands rolled up the sleeves of her dress and curled her legs beneath her chair instead of sitting on them.

Alphys knew this would take a moment, so she turned about in her chair, elbowing bowls and cups onto the floor to bounce and clatter over opened and closed and scattered books at their own leisure to make room. The pot left there is grabbed quickly, already tilting it to see if it had any weight and of course the stupid thing was empty. With a whine she tossed it over the side of her desk, and it bounced and clattered before hitting the wall and rolling onto it's side.

“Bellhop! Tea!” Alphys squeaked, snapping her fingers and from the opposite hall a crackle sparked audibly. Good. Something began to move, and she was already busy fishing beneath her desk for a new cup. By the time she found it and set it onto her desk, a light clink followed by a heavy thud followed. It soon began to sound like footsteps, and before long a lumbering creature of one’s nightmares appeared in the doorway. One thin, tiny foot lead forward, followed by a massive, thick leg that probably better belonged to an elephant to step forward. The being wore a torn and worn suit, with tattered patches hastily sewn from other fabrics. Their arms were different lengths and colours, one arm clearly an ebony brown and the other an almost weird green hue. Each supported a tray with a tea kettle, and the Bellhop put it down upon the table.

Alphys turned to look, her hat settling half askew over her black hair bob and her hand parted the bangs to make eye contact through her bottle cap glasses. Her chapped lips smiled, and her hand gestured to the now clear table. A brown and hazel eye peered down, and dumbly looked to the new mess on the floor. Oh…

“Green?” She demanded cooly, and the bellhop’s two sized eyes blinked and their four different cuts of lips smiled with a nod.

“Yes, M’lady.” They purr in two voices, one distinctively male and probably in his thirties, and the bother from a female in her young twenties. Alphys smiles patiently and pushes her cup forward as the computer finished booting up. The Bellhop looks to the screen, dazed by it’s flicker as it struggled to start up before finally flashing to an illuminated black with it’s name. Gregory 243 model 3.5 exe. Ah.

“Wonderful. Serve me one?” She asks cooly, and turns herself around to begin typing her log in. The old thing’s screen flickered, and she pouted with hesitation as if worrying that it may shut down on her. Bellhop picked up the pot in their dandy hands, tilting the pot to shakily pour her a cup as their thick leg leaned forward to relieve the pain in their hip. Once done, they reached into their pocket, drew out three sugar cubes and blew off the lint before dropping them into her cup. Alphys was busy running check ups on her outdated computer, watching the black screen run the green text script to start booting. The red orb was still blaring insistently around them both, but by now it was ignored and nearly entirely adjusted to by now.

“Nearly ready?” Alphys grumbled with impatience, tapping her manicured nails on her desk. The paint was beginning to chip, and she put one to her teeth to chew despite the post it note on the side of her monitor warning her not to do that. Oh well. Future problem to deal with. The Bellhop reached into their mouth, searching beneath their tongue and drawing out a beautifully ornate tea spoon. They hum to placate her in both voices, stirring her cup with gentle clinks around the bottom before tapping it dry on the lip. That done, they settle the cup onto a plate, and offer it forward for Alphys to take. Her ringed finger clinks against the cup as she accepts it, tipping her head.

“Thanks, Dummy. You can go now.” The witch dismissed, wiggling her thick fingers and the Bellhop bowed their head, grinning with their mismatched and patchwork mouth. A quick swallow of the spoon and it was gone. Their darker skinned hand came down as it was longer, and went about bracing their thick, four times too big leg and they walk themselves out. Tink, thunk, tink, thunk, tink thunk… Off they went, lumbering down the hallway. Alphys was already reading the scripts again, watching her programs boot up and settle to open her screen and security measures. 

Excellent! Bringing her fingers together to crack the joints, she begins to type and summon her necessary check ups. The moment the warning comes up, it’s already being opened into it’s own window and loading everything. The motherboard begins to whine and groan, setting into overdrive but a yellow light goes up on the wall, and eight seconds of delay later and the coolant is being poured onto the heat coils beneath the floor. It sets to work, and calms the groaning enough that she can hear her Bellhop stop walking and settle to watch their tv. Her hands grab her cup to drink, sipping on the sweetened drink to watch the notice finish uploading. There’s two seconds to regret drinking before she’s spitting up her swallow with shock.

The blaring message that she’d been content to ignore flared up in bright red words, and her whole screen seized up. ‘WARNING. MAGIC OVERLOAD. LOCKS MANUALLY RELEASED. UNREGISTERED USER. WARNING. UNREGISTERED USER.’ Every other program began to shut down, too overwhelmed by the very mass of power running to blink the screen in white, red and black, but it’s enough for her to drop her cup and turn about. Her glasses nearly fly off, scampering off of her chair to rush up to the wall of orbs that spasmed and glittered with that menacing red. Alphys’ hands shake, and she’s staring the truth straight in the face.

“BELLHOP!” Alphys eventually shrieks with biting, squealing panic, and they sigh, shifting their leg from the support on a stool and begin to limp back over.

“Yes, Ma’am…?” They call boredly, dully, like the red flashing lights pounding down the halls meant nothing at all. Alphys already ran up to the wall, fishing open a lever and pulling it down. All at once the orbs flickered and dimmed, as if losing power. Her green eyes stared intently, the folds at the corners of her eyes making it look like she was trying to mentally set it all aflame. The bellhop slides their head in, mismatched eyes peering over at her just as the orbs all began to glow brighter. The first six on the row purified to white, glowing warmly and comfortably at half power. But the seventh and last one spat and growled, hampering back up to a red light that blinked menacingly. It cast the shadows of her face to make her look ghastly, and the Dummy held tightly to the wall with an impulse of terror.

That face… looked almost like the one that had hovered over them when they had been ‘born.’ It made them shudder and swallow nervously, watching as her face turned to regard them fully and without any distraction from the wide eyes and half grin on her face. They wished she hadn’t called them at all….

“A monster… has opened the first door.” Alphys announced with gusto and excitement, her hands wiggling and clutching and relaxing in cycles. Her thoughts hampered higher and higher, already thinking about her books and the many things she could do if she could get her hands on the specimen that was strong enough to open a royal seal. The Bellhop began to retreat already, trying to hide behind the opening of the door and it was enough that Alphys turned herself around, rushing to her computer to snap her fingers and power it down all in one go. Sure it would take double the time to start up the next quarter, but she was too impatient to boot it down properly now.

“Whatever, a problem to deal with for future me!” She cried, already giggling to herself as formulas and thoughts rushed through her head. “What if, this monster is powerful enough to break, even the barrier? A royal seal… Such a powerful magic already, but then….” Her heels clicked on the stones of her floor as she hurried towards the stairs. The door opens, and she gazes intently at the two steps that led down into the abyss of her tower. Her fingers snap and she grins, watching the steps slide up from the abyss to meet the landing, and her feet glidded down with ease as each one came to meet the next one. Behind her, they began to fade away to nothing, leaving her path to hover as she wound around and around, plunging down into the depths of her tower.

“With a soul like that… I could, make the perfect specimen…” She continues to murmur to herself, already dwelling deeply in the thoughts of future projects and how to get her hands on the being at hand. It would be perfect! Asgore couldn’t deny her then!

“Then, I could finally read all the fan fiction I wanted! All, by myself…” Alphys squeaked and wiggled her hips, latching onto her door and opening it. The smell hits first, the sterile environment and the soft, groaning nosies of the beings that were alive down there already. Her smile did not waver, nor did her mood as she paroused down the way and turned down the next hall, flicking on the lights for the oil lanterns to click on and register her presence. Good! They began to light up the path, and one followed over her head like a protective parasol.

“Maybe then, I can get new ones shipped in, and invite Undyne over! Oh, how long was it last…?” She questioned lightly, truing to remember the date that her… well, rather poignant companion had last been over together with her. Quite some time, was it not? The end of the hall comes and she opens the next door, watching the room light up and the flames dance from sprocket to sprocket to light up the immense round room of books. It was incredible how many books she managed to stack in here, and her little figure mosses up to the small desk to open her journal. The page flaps until she pins it down, and a small ghostly dust bunny flees from her flapping hand.

“Need to get Bellhop to clean down here…” She mutters to herself, turning her gaze to the date and nearly freezes on the spot. Her finger nail rubs over the ink, like maybe it was a visual trick that needed to be cleared away. But no…

“Today… was the day…” That Asriel had died. Was this, a coincidence? Was there, some connection? Her mind spun out, and the light by the door blinked on. Her head whops around, her bangs bouncing around her short neck as her eyes squint. Her index is pointed as a yellow surge reaches it, and it flickers on like a radio speaker crackling to life.

“Madam?” Dummy murmurs into the lamp, and Alphys nearly throws a fit. What did they even want???

“What is it, Bellhop? I’m in the basement already-“ She starts sharply, tone wearing thin but the Bellhop knows her. They knew her all too well.

“There's a message for you, from Undyne.” They rasp, the female voice nervous and squeaking while the male one is reserved and almost broody. Neither wanted to talk to her in a mood like this. But it didn't matter, the witch was squealing and shutting her journal quickly.

“Oh goody! What’s it say?” Alphys squealed delightfully, already reaching for an ink pen and grabbing her study tome on Monster research from another quarter of her work. That done, she’s glancing around for a satchel of some kind.

“It's about the red light. She wants to know if you’ve seen anything.” They continue softly, and there's the soft sound of grinding over the receiver. Were they sharpening their nails? Sounded like it. Her jaw squared.

“Well, you rightly know I have! What are you sitting around for? And don’t file your nails over call, you know that!” Alphys grippes, and the soft sound of a whimper comes over

“S-Sorry, Madam…” They sound like they were ducking their head. Good.

“Good. Now, inform Undyne that the door for the ruins has been breached. No further data yet. Mow scooch!” She cried, and with a rush of giggles she’s hanging up on them with a snap of her fingers and already making her way back towards the stair case. Undyne was coming! Undyne was coming over…!

“Oh, I can’t wait!” She peeped, before being overcome with anxiety.

“O-Oh gosh, what if she gets mad about the clutter!” With a tight grip to her turtle neck, the horror of being scolded by the tall, powerful warrior-

“BELLHOP!” Alphys screamed in another panic, already leaning down to gather her skirts and run up the stairs to get started. “WE HAVE TO CLEAN NOW!! DUMMY? BELLHOP C’MON WE GOTTA GET STARTED!” BELLHOP??”


	5. Originally Divergent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the brothers, and make the journey through the cold.

The cold out here is nothing compared to the winters of the surface, and Frisk finds themselves speeding up sometimes to wander off the path to run through the little mounds of snow. Their paws kick it up into the air, and they click their teeth trying to snatch some onto their tongue. The cool crisp tang of the snow is almost sulfuric in flavour, and they assume it's because... well actually, how would it snow under the ground? Their head hurt thinking on it too long, and Frisk had enough to think about.

The game of running around without supervision is nice fun, and the freedom of being out here feels lovely. That is what they chose to try and focus on instead. There's a nagging regret in the back of their mind, leaving Toriel like that... but they reason that she was but an adult. And adults knew better than they did on how to take care of themselves. She'll be fine! 

Turning back to look though, two things happen at once. First, they notice that the ruins have completed faded from sight in the dim, dark distance of the forest path. The purple stone had shone so brightly in it’s interior that they had assumed that it would glimmer quite brightly against the snow and trees for miles, though it seemed to have faded so completely. They felt a little lost from the disappearance of this landmark, and tried to keep their heart rate steady.

The second thing they had noticed was a strange shape that moved with the trees, suddenly still as they had been looking out. It took a second to blink, and change their angle of perception to see if it had just been a trick of the trees... and at first the thought seemed correct. The moment they changed the angle of their head, looking at the snow they had just played through, the spot they had been studying moved enough that a shape jumped to awareness, and the shape was definitely something human looking enough to alarm them greatly. 

The feeling of being watched washed over their back in pins and needles, concentrating in their face and cheeks. Frisk swallowed with tension. No, this didn't feel safe or fun any longer. They turned around for a moment, to see if anything was amiss before staring into the forest line of skeletal trees... but nothing came from it. Whatever it was, had Frisk's ears stiffening and lifting half way. No, they were not safe now, especially if it knew to hide when they were looking for it. Their instincts were telling them it was time to go. 

The young monster hopped back onto the path, and began walking again. People couldn't be too far ahead, could they? Villages and things had to be within walking distance, and Toriel's village had to be accessible... So they prowled on, allowing their gait to be loose but brisk. The faster they got to their next destination the better. Determination heated their thoughts, and every few steps they would give a small hop in order to motivate themselves to keep moving forward. Frisk knew they were on the right path, it was only a matter of travelling across it. 

For a while it was quiet, save for the stirring wind and the blowing snow that drove a chill into their mouth and over the flat edges of their teeth. The trees would rattle and shudder from the gale, and Frisk would sometimes pause to listen to the haunting noise. Like a valley, the trees would act like wood chimes and vibrate from the wind, making strange natural melodies that stirred up their fur to fluff out. Something in this nature orchestra was off, and it almost sounded like footsteps. 

The sound was... getting closer? Their fur rippled from toes to scalp in a shiver of mental stress, all too aware of the looming threat that came about them. They had to hurry up. Frisk took off again, beginning to run. Their pace had their mouth part, nostrils flared to get the most air they could. Eventually they had to slow down and jog, but did not pause. They could alternate. No problem with that. A fallen branch appears on the path, and thoughtlessly they leapt over it, wanting to avoid anything to slow them down and cut back their speed. Frisk continues along, pitter pat pitter pat of their feet in the soft layer of snow-

Crunch. 

They stop, spinning themselves around as quickly as they could. Their eyes dart all around, trying to spot at once what had happened; eventually landing upon the stray branch they had avoided- it simply laid there, broken. The horror of their new pursuer’s trail hit all the harder in that moment alone, and Frisk bleats nervously. They need to run, and run right now. Quickly. 

They turn, pelting it hard and kicking up snow trails in their wake, uncaring of the trace for now. Their steps are loud and their heart hammers in their ears, but Frisk cannot stop now. They can't wait to listen, to see; whatever it was was already too close for comfort. Could it be one of Toriel's friends? Frisk saw something coming. An arch? A gate? A landmark? The closer they got, the more obvious it became. The structure was something plain, only a little lighter coloured than the trees around them. It had four pillars deeply rooted into the ground and a mass beam on the top. A milestone? Whatever it was, they needed to get closer to it, trying to think of why it felt so familiar. Then, it almost hits their head with it’s sudden revelation.

It was very reminiscent of horror stories of their childhood, about not wandering too far after dark, about the lurking threats in the shadows. The chasing sweepers and hungering phantoms that cannot pass barriers despite their thin, skeletal hands that could choke the life out of you without trying, hunting for naughty, unruly children who did not stay close to home... Frisk licks their dried lips and teeth, setting their head and arms and pelt it hard, to escape these horrifying images that spawned in their mind. That arch was meant to protect them! They could make it!

They push their energy reserves forward. 100 feet from their target, tearing up drifts of snow. Their tail wagged behind them, pumped on their run. 80 feet. 40 feet. Their tongue felt cold and there was a small fire of biting harshness in their throat but Frisk kept on. They held speed, even as they closed on that 20 feet gap. Somehow, they had believed that they were safe. Another step, and a sudden gale churned hard from beneath the very pads of their leading foot. The wind swept up into their cloths and along their skin beneath the nice coat of fur, and with a yip they saw a rush of snow like a cresting wave rise up from what felt like no where. They could only bleat in alarm as it crashed, landing upon them with a staggering weight that had them stepping back and flailing their arms without a true focus to dispel the surplus. The coughing started, having breathed in some in alarm and spat up the melted water with a thunderous sneeze.

Frisk shook their head and flapped their ears, braying with concern before they started to jog forward again. So close-! Apparently too close, as suddenly a figure was simply there before them. Being startled like that was too much already, but Frisk's hare strong legs almost catapulted them up in the air with alarm, windmilling their paws to stand a two foot distance from this suddenly-there person. 

Though at first it seemed that the eyes were blue with a simple flash, two Citrine brown eyes lazily regarded them from a round and rather broad face. Frisk blinks, trying to better study the expression there as the person settled it. The left eye looked lazy and half asleep, while the right was glossy and fully open. The grin held the straightest teeth Frisk had ever seen, and their ears went right up with alarm as this person gave a gentle chuckle, masculine voice almost piercing like stepping on ice as he sheathed his hands into his ratty jacket's fur lined pockets. 

"Don’t you know how you greet new pals, buddy?" He asks in a soft, almost pleading tone, and Frisk wrinkles their nose to scent him. His coarse and glossy black hair was tied to the nape of his neck, and the tie's feathers and hair were laid down over one shoulder, inside the fur cowl of his aged jacket. It had been white and blue one, with beautiful triangular patterns around the hem and sleeves before it faded to this old and aged yellow-tinge. Maybe from the sulfur? 

They make a grunt, to reply, and somehow his face looked all the more like a one eyed squint. How could his tight red skin smile so broadly? How could a figure three inches taller than they were command such intimidation like he was taller than Toriel had been? 

"...not much of a talker, huh?" He asks next, studying them closely as Frisk slowly shakes their head. No, they did not talk very much. The man seems to laugh, shifting his shoulders like he meant to change his posture but got too tired to put forth the effort halfway through. 

"Th' name is Sans. I'm the gatekeeper of this neck of the wood, and I've been told someone suspicious has been wandering about. You seen 'em?" His smooth voice carries well, and it's only as they muse upon his question that they realize that their arms had settled to their sides, and their tail was only half mast. This understanding was followed by the crawling of a shudder up their back, like the weight around them had grown so much heavier... 

Was he trying to catch them in a trap? Asking such an obvious question... Was Sans testing to see if they would lie? Their ears were completely flat, and they felt like the tremble in their arm came from the struggle of lifting their arm against a strange new gravitational pull. Their index wobbled as it extended to point towards themselves, and Sans' face strangely relaxed. Whatever blue hue Frisk had imagined was gone, and his brown eyes both opened to the same sleepy state as his mouth calmed.

"...Didn't even try an fib, huh?" Sans chuckled softly, retreating a hand to rub beneath his nose. The monster child notices that his palms carry blue markings, and they assume the blue tone matches the shapes on his coat before it disappears beneath the too long jacket sleeves.

Frisk bleats cautiously, already aware that the pressure they felt had evaporated. Whatever it had been, was gone and they were free to move and shift about. Testing their feet, Frisk was casual about watching Sans' face. They strongly felt that they could almost identify some pride in those tired, withdrawn features. 

"So you're the new face of the underground. A monster, huh?" He rambles lightly, the edges of his mouth tightening a little bit and Frisk almost wants to tell him to just give in and yawn. Instead their tail shifts side to side with cautious excitement. Another human. Though their encounter was weird... he seemed rather nice. 

"My brother Papyrus is the other gatekeeper a little more west from here, and he's always wanted to meet a monster. Guy's on his way to become a member of the royal guard, y'know." And the man winks with his other eye, giving Frisk a moment to smile. There was warmth in these words... though their stomach flipped. They realize, again that their emotions felt too strong, too coded for this and there's caution again. Was Sans... able to manipulate the environment around them? 

"If you wouldn't mind, I'd like you to meet him." He continues like nothing had changed, but Frisk could tell that he knew. He knew that they had an idea, and the curl to that smile was coming back. Gently, cautiously, they shake their head and feel their snowy hair shift from their muzzle a little. Sans becomes pensive, bringing his hand to rub beneath his chin... were there were a few black hairs coming in. Seems Sans wasn't shaving on schedule. 

"Why not? He’s a monster-hunting fanatic, he’d love to meet you.” Sans persisted softly, smiling even further. They stick their tongue out at him with a huff, displeased that he was trying to manipulate them like that…. So he shrugged, like admitting defeat and the feelings dropped. They felt a little cold, and shivered with a small sneeze before rubbing their muzzle on the sleeve of their sweater. Sans chuckled softly, almost drawing out his own hand to laugh behind until… he blinked tiredly, and started to turn his head around to look past the bridge. Frisk worriedly leaned over to peer down the same manner too, and squint as something appears in the distance. All they can process, is tall, and a sailing red scarf, before they blanch.

“Well… there he is now, actually.” The gate keeper murmurs without much aplomb, chuckling that similarly eerie chuckle that made Frisk shiver. Another human, huh? Sans turns a little, his eye widening a little like it was working to focus on them differently. They swallowed a lump.

“Sure you don’t want to meet him?” Sans said softly, and Frisk swallowed before giving an affirmed bleat. He seems to smile a little more, and there’s a confident chuckle before he indicates the gate with a lazy half formed hand gesture.

“This was his idea. Something to try and keep the monsters out. But… He built them too far apart, so you can slip right through. Go on.” Sans murmured, and Frisk decided to trust in him for this. Gently, they step up to the little bridge, peering down into the abyss a single moment before pelting it over the tied down planks. The whole thing rattled ominously and they nearly made a sound of alarm before it was safe to stand upon the other end. Once across, they glance over their shoulder, and see a startled Sans trying to keep up, his shorter stature making the bridge waver a little further before he was over it. Some sweat was glistening at his temple, and Frisk could only giggle softly as he huffed playfully back at them, offering a full toothed smile before tromping forward. Together they made the journey towards the next little outpost, rhythm quiet as the winds seemed to have rested as well. It was curious to hear such silence, and only the snow crunching beneath his moccasins for guidance. How had he snuck past them before?

The little alcove of land was interesting to see, and the outpost for trading guards was very clear to them. It was easy to imagine someone with their feet up on the desk and waiting for reports to come by and sort through. Though the hut itself... Frisk’s eyes went over the decrepit looking roof top and flimsy wooden paneling. As if on some unseen cue the shingles fell with some snow to splat onto the ground. They wince in empathy, almost tempted to go over and pick up the small piece of rubbish before their new companion arrived. They took a moment to blink at the strange sleeveless coat he was wearing, and the beautiful orange triangles around the hem to match Sans’ same style. It looked so strange without the same puffy sleeves, and almost too short on his incredibly tall and lanky body.

They took a few large and wide steps to come standing quite proudly before was Papyrus himself, and this tall being was almost as tall as Toriel had been. This was,quite curious to see, and Frisk barely managed to keep their mouth closed in awe of those sparkling hazel eyes. This young man looked quite happy to see them, and that broad smile had the same teeth line as Sans. They must be related.

“Sans, I’d been looking for you! Was this who you ran off with?” The new guest said quite jovially and loudly, and Frisk adjusted their footing to step in closer to him. His head, looked curious as one half seemed buzzed down quite shortly, while the other half was half wavy and a styled muss over his forehead and ear. Had… he tried to cut it himself? Or maybe, stopped half way through. In any case, it looked like a mohawk when his head was turned to one side, and they thought the triangle pattern looked really cool on his scalp too.

“Heh, yeah bro. Managed to get myself lost an’ they found me.” He answers softly and with no real indication of tone, enough that Frisk turned to look at him curiously. Hadn’t he been the one to randomly walk up to them from the midst of nowhere? The gasp of excitement startles them to whip their head aside, and the tall man’s eyes followed the swish of their ears. Ah, that’s right. Humans. 

“And my goodness! A monster, Sans? How’d you find one??” He preened excitedly, already coming down to kneel before them in such a manner that they nearly jumped with alarm, taking a step back. He almost seemed to want to follow forward, but recalled himself and held still, resting his arm and elbow over his knee to look at them. Like this, the darker red of his skin was familiar to Sans’ own, and the shape of the cheek bones made great reference. They tried to smile kindly to him, but they fear that it would only look like they were displaying their teeth.

“Hello, Monster friend.” Papyrus whispers in a more natural tone, and they can feel Sans relax beside them both. How curious. “My name is Papyrus the Great. I’m Sans the Wise’s older brother, and the gate keeper to the west. I am very happy, to finally meet you.” His smile, is so gentle and wide, and thought they felt calmer now it seemed not to be forced like the interactions with Sans had been. Their tail began to gently wind side to side behind them, and they stepped up to be more naturally steady and poised in front of his kneeling form. Papyrus’ eyes seemed to nearly twinkle, the green lines along his iris almost deep like malachite from Frisk’s science class. Before they knew it, he held forward a hand… 

They look to the fingerless, red glove and see many scuffs and seams that had been sown into them. A fighter, for certain, but these looked more like training gloves than actual uniform. Gently, gingerly, they reach forward to grasp it. He’s soft and slow in turn, shaking it like if he moved too quickly they would suddenly crumble. Papyrus gives it another gentle squeeze, before letting go, and settling his hand over his other arm in such a casual pose. Frisk retreats, nervously teething at their lip as Sans draws their attention, though they aren’t sure what he did to change or move. Were his eyes blue again? Their little head turns towards Papyrus again, who is softly chuckling before suddenly drawing himself upwards. 

“This is wonderful! Truly wonderful! You’re even cuter than I remember.” His hands come forward to clap like he was some excitable child Frisk’s age, giving a little shift to his posture like he was about to start skipping about. Frisk allows their ears to lift up over their head in confusion, turning to Sans for help but the short man looks quite struck and happily blissful to be watching his brother. Remember-? What did he mean?

“Oh yes, this is wonderful! Truly wonderful!” Papyrus continued, giving a little spin as his wound scarf settled over his shoulders and nearly smacked him in the face. Sans gave a soft, wheezy chuckle and brought out a small kerchief to wipe at his brow. Was the shorter man sweating? Frisk was baffled by these two, so confounded by their behaviour that they give a soft snort in frustration. Papyrus is back, knees almost touching through his leg tight jogging pants and hands held before him like they were huddled for a game.

“Are you excited Frisk? We’re a third to the village!” The taller guardian squealed, and Frisk was only able to stare. That name. How did he know-?!

“If we keep walking up the hill, it should be an easy time to get over to Snowdin.” Sans cuts in softly, dabbing at the side of his neck and jawline before putting his stained and ratty looking towel away. Frisk bleated with a huff, crossing their arms with a frown. Something was fishy here! And they lightly stomp their foot, displaying their feelings in a way they knew would get across. Both brothers look at them with such warmth and cheer that they almost feel foolish for it.

 

“Something wrong?”  
“Something wrong?”

The two say at once, and Frisk only snorts through their nose. Why were they so weird?? What was going on here? They grunt in a drawn out way, clicking their tongue and stomping their foot again in demand. Papyrus’ thin face scrunched around the mouth and his eyes go wide, showing his confusion with a gentle tilt of his head. Sans huffs softly, giving a nervous smile and a shrug towards his brother like he was just as confused. Frisk sniffs, adjusting one arm to hold it crooked and way out, before crossing the other one above it in a clear sign of disapproval. 

“Heh, tough crowd kid, we ain’t figured what you might be tryin’ to say.” Sans mumbled eventually, glancing to his brother who glanced to him, index curled under his chin in a clear musing gesture.

“Indeed Sans, it feels like they are trying to express something quite dire!” 

“It’s kind of difficult to, get what they mean without words, man.” Sans continued quietly, his left eye a little wider as it watched Frisk watch them both in turn. 

“Indeed, my brother! It’s as if they don’t think we’d take them safely to their new destination! Pity, perhaps we should try ourselves anew?” Papyrus proposed softly, uncrossing his arms to rub at the shorter shaved spot on his head. Frisk snuffed loudly like it would interrupt them, but it didn’t. Sans held both arms in a shrugging motion, purposely closing his eye to not see them stare pointedly at him. 

“Well, can’t hurt to try, right Frisk?” The shorter man murmurs gently, turning to offer out his arm at the same time that Papyrus did, and Frisk was startled to lower their crossed arms. What… did they mean?

“Monster child!” Papyrus starts loudly, like some royal proclamation, and they lift their ears a little like it would help them better understand. “Shall we go towards the village beyond yonder?”

“Heh, let’s help get you to Snowdin, the village on the mountain side.” Sans clarifies lightly, and Frisk is looking between both hands. Were… they going to help them along? Slowly, they reach out, glancing between these brothers before finally accepting their hands. Both seem to smile even more widely as their hands wrap around theirs, and both turn to lead with them in the center.

“Come along, Frisk! It’s time to go!” Papyrus exclaims with gusto, already pointing his finger up and leading with great big steps forward. Sans is taking small casual steps, yet is somehow keeping even pace with his tall brother. Frisk struggles to carry along, scraping their feet into the snow as they continue forth into the wilderness. The path continues from here, winding about trees and the side of a frozen lake, suddenly making it’s appearance as they turn along the lighter path. 

“The village up ahead is called Snowdin. It’s a pun, because the snow fall is terrible during the winter and traps people in their homes.” Sans starts, and the topic sounds so grim that there’s a soft gruff of sympathy from Frisk. Winter is always hard to face, and it must be worse without the warmth of the sun down here… 

“It’s a cozy place! The residents are very friendly. There’s a bakery, and a library! They have tons and tons of books, and puzzles!” Papyrus continues like the other half of the thought, and both are shuffling along like the stroll with a third person between them was so natural and commonplace. Frisk felt a little dizzy, but was rather thankful for the company. “There is where all the newspapers of the land are made, too. So I get to submit my puzzles to see if they will print!”

Though sans is leaning over with a twinkle in his beautifully rich eyes, and Frisk finds themselves almost put in a spotlight. The man is smiling still, though, and he’s giving their hand a squeeze in assurance.

“Papyrus is the master crossword maker. His puzzles always get published.” His tone is filled with such pride, and he’s turning to watch his feet as Papyrus inhales sharply to interject with spirit.

“Not everyone can finish them! I forget that not many are as great as I, the Great Papyrus, at puzzle solving! It can be quite distressing.” The great figure slackens his shoulders like a weight settles there, and Frisk bumps their snout into his side to try and offer an assuring pat. With their face. He peeps with shock and turns over to glance at them. Though they do their best to smile, they still feel like it comes out wrong, even when Papyrus beamed tearfully back. “You’re right Frisk! It’s not my fault others don’t take the time to maintain their puzzle making skills! At least with my puzzles, I help motivate to teach them!” And his fingerless gloves pat mutely over his jacket breast with a proud tap as he tilts his head up in pride.

“Heh, my bro will teach people puzzles on the weekends, sometimes. S’pretty cool.” Sans murmurs softly, and Frisk it looking over at him next to see his face. Sans looks nearly as proud, if not more so to talk about his brother’s work this way. The warmth of their tight friendship, as brothers… it fills their heart with determination. The kindness they show one another is powerful, and Frisk finds it easier to ignore their journey as they continue along. The incline begins to build and their bodies naturally keep to an angle to make it easier for them to keep up their pace. The higher they go, the less earthy the smell of the area becomes until it’s all snow and ice, with a few trees that have planted years in the past to uphold their own weight. Still, Frisk is content to listen to them talk to each other, only interjecting to rub their face in Papyrus’ hip or Sans’ shoulder to compliment or scold them on something. 

“Really, I figure you’ll rather like it down here.” Sans murmurs at one point, and Frisk glances to him with a curious huff before he continues. “Sure, we’re supposed to bring any monsters that fall down here to the capital and the captain of the guard, Undyne herself…” Here Papyrus gives out a winded wheeze, and looks almost stricken as he turns to his brother.

“That’s right! I wanted to be in the royal guard!” He smacks his forehead lightly with his empty hand, and Frisk gives a soft laugh in turn, tucking their face down in their sweater a little. How did one forget their ambitions just like that? It was, rather silly as Papyrus made a whine and slump of his shoulders. “But I like Frisk! I can’t turn them in like that!” Frisk peeps nervously for a moment, realizing the implications of what they were saying but Sans was nodding his head sagely.

“Course we can’t turn them in. Frisk is our pal. And Pals don’t turn pals in.” Sans murmurs in turn, nodding his head as he mused upon this new dilemma. Papyrus whimpers empathetically, and both stop to stand there. Frisk bobs forward, momentarily confused by the sudden change as suddenly they were embraced on both sides. There’s a shy squeak as they flex their feet and windmill, trying to escape the affectionate nuzzles these humans were dispelling upon them. There’s a warbled, raspy protest of stop and they both laugh softly, giving another squeeze before obeying. 

“We gotta protect our monster friend!” Papyrus exclaims with gusto, already striking a pose as a breeze lifted his tattered scarf behind him. Sans seemed to mimic him in kind, crossing his arms for a more reserved pose, and Frisk was busy adjusting their sweater and blowing upwards to adjust their mussed bob of hair. 

“Yeah, we’ll make sure they get to the barrier safely.” Sans puts in, and it’s then that… Frisk realizes that they have no idea what he means. Gingerly, they step forth, reaching to tug on his sleeve and gave a curious sound. Sans opened his left eye to peer at them, and Frisk could feel the crawl of something moving down their hairline and spine. 

“What’s wrong, little buddy?” He asks plainly, and they tug with insistence on his coat. Papyrus hums thoughtfully, leaning in close as some strands of curled hair nearly fell into his eyes. 

“Ah Brother…” Papyrus murmurs, gingerly pointing as his brother hummed softly to look up at him with one eye open.The taller boy smiled patiently, like he was hoping Sans would process it without a word. Sans only stared boredly at him. Well, then. Papyrus chuckled softly, and gently patted Sans’ head. “Perhaps, we’ve forgotten to explain, a few things…” He continues lightly, reaching up to move his bangs gently to curl naturally together over his eyebrow, and Sans releases an ‘ahhh’ like he’d been holding his breath.

“Sorry Frisk, we know so much we forget what has or hasn’t been said. That’s our bad.” Sans replied smoothly, giving that same casual shrug but Frisk was plainly pouting. They figured, it was why they already knew of their name, without introductions. 

“Well, let us explain.” Papyrus hums, already using his leg to gently gesture for them to keep going, and Frisk nods in agreement as the trio restart the walk along the mountain. Together, they start around the next wind towards a flat platform of land.

“See, the reason humans are down here at all…” Sans murmurs lightly, clearing his throat to get this, muskier kind of tone started. “Is because thousands of years ago, a war broke out, and to stop the fighting Humans were banished down here.” Papyrus hums and nods his head sharply, giving the ascent that this is indeed true. Frisk bleats lightly, poking both their sides in retaliation, though it’s only Sans that gives a small squeal and jumps to avoid it.

“H-Hey, okay okay, I know you probably knew that. Still! Cut me some slack buddy.” The man waved gently, sliding his hands into his pockets until Papyrus cleared his throat. 

“Still, the manner in which humans have been trapped is by a barrier, erected to keep us from leaving. This barrier, is only accessible from behind the king’s throne, inside the capital.” His hazel eyes dart towards Frisk to make sure they were listening, and was rewarded with a scowl. Both of them laugh in unison and wave a hand to soothe their impatience. 

“You gotta get past Asgore. That’s all.” Sans pipped in, winking at Frisk as they turn the edge, and from here the little monster could see their destination right and proper. A little remote village, dotting the hillside as it… seemed to rush up to meet a formation of rock. it was interesting to see, and at once they understood that there were only a few paths that penetrated this rock mass to continue on past it. They would have been forced to visit the village if they intended to progress. Perhaps having two pals wasn’t so bad. Papyrus seemed to smile a little brighter, as if he knew they understood too.

“The barrier, is your doorway home. To the surface.” He clarifies softly, and it’s then that Frisk really gets it. Home! To the surface…! Though, they had run away from the express purpose of escaping home… it’s the place they knew and grew up in. Monsters, didn’t really belong down here, did they? They seemed pensive, and a little more withdrawn for a moment, and on instinct Sans and Papyrus reached out together to take their hand and walk with them. The hold was a warm assurance that gave them some comfort, and eventually Frisk was able to smile up at them both. 

They struggle, but there’s a rasp as they attempt to speak. It takes a few tires, and the brothers stop to watch their lips as they do it. Their tongue pressed up to their teeth for a hiss, before giving a shove of their throat for a vowel that ended sharply. Then they spread their lips to hum the next vowel, and sound it out more smoothly. After the third one, Sans and Papyrus both beamed quite proudly. They could read, Frisk’s thank you.

“You are very welcome, monster child!” Papyrus exclaims, already bringing them into a crushing hug as he spun about before dropping them to their feet. The daze makes them bleat and stumble back, right into Sans’ waiting hug. His is softer, and he’s stiffling a yawn right into their ear. 

“We’re here to help you get there. Whadday say? Friends?” 

Of course, Frisk thinks that this friendship will be short lived if they have to leave. What was the point in it then, if it was going to be cut so short? The destination is not so far away, but still. To not be alone, to be able to rely on people, despite having just met… Somehow, it warmed them further. They didn’t need to feel so isolated anymore. Maybe, just for a little while… they could be around people who could genuinely enjoy their company. Just… for a little while... They decide to stand up. Sans blinks, surprised and a little anxious. Would they refuse? Papyrus too, stops walking, and stands, waiting.

Frisk seems to be withdrawn, looking down to their feet as they shuffle and adjust their posture, before shyly looking up at Sans through their floppy, poorly cut bangs. He watches distantly, quietly, until their hand comes up with all the seriousness of a business deal. Sans becomes firm a moment, eyes nearly shut as if he’d doze off right the next second, before the smile builds. Slowly his hand comes out from his pocket, and accepts, giving it a good, sturdy shake.

“Friends.” Sans says with pride, and Papyrus is gasping with such delight that Frisk is already squeezing his hand to let go, and turns to do the same for Papyrus. The taller boy’s hands are cupping his cheeks in awe, giving a little hip wiggle to show his confidence before he thrusts out his hand and grasps theirs to shake tightly in turn.

“Friends!” Papyrus cries out with pride, and he’s giving little chuckles that sound so bizarre that Frisk cannot help their breathless laughter in turn. They are scooped up by Papyrus again, but there’s no battle to be put down or nervousness anymore. Instead, they hug around his head, snorting softly in laughter as he gives another spin and laughs with them. Nuzzle after nuzzle is traded, and they feel their soul pulse so strongly inside of their chest.

Friends. They’ve… made friends all on their own! They feel so emotional for a moment, clinging to Papyrus like he was their very anchor keeping them from floating up and away, and they could feel Sans’ head and arms trying to hold onto them from beneath too. Friends… Their throat croaks when they try to say it, and moisture prickles at their eyes as the three of them still to stand in the middle of the empty mountain to cling to each other. If Papyrus feels their tears on his head, he doesn’t say anything, instead slowly moving them around with expert hands to settle their legs over his shoulders… and before long they were holding to him for a piggy back ride.

“C’mon Frisk, let’s keep going. To Snowdin! To adventure!” Papyrus cheered brightly, already throwing his hand forward to point, and they were too busy rubbing their face into their sweater sleeves to smear the evidence of their tears away. Sans is a steady presence beside his brother, and the two of them begin their walk again, a slower, merry rhythm that allowed Frisk to feel like it was almost a ride, and they gently smooth Papyrus’ styled fringe piece from his face.

“Heh, let’s get to our next chapter.” Sans added in softly, already eyeing the winding path they would have to take to get to Snowdin.


	6. Bustlin Snowdin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Brothers take Frisk through Snowdin.  
> It doesn't go as well as Frisk had hoped, but no harm no foul.  
> The next pit stop in their journey is made.

Snowdin, a small and remote human village was a little... unnerving to see. Frisk could already count vaguely in their head the number of houses dotting the hill, and their shape did not look entirely well. Many seemed to have been patched up with various scraps and off hand bits to remedy a symptom instead of the problem. Even from here the visiting monster could tell that some metal pieces were tossed out billboards used to create new walls. Somehow these underground dwelling humans had their hands on monster garbage and had made the best out of what they had. Frisk wasn't able to keep up with Papyrus' story anymore, instead watching as they passed by the inn and the first landmarks of this remote village. This was where things were most strongly clustered, probably the town square, and already Frisk felt ready to flee as eyes began to follow them sharply.

The makeshift lighting and decor were so chock full of Christmas cheer and brightness, illuminating the space like the sun was really shining down upon them all. It only made the dingy, dirty contrast of the people all the more startling to - remark upon. Human faces peered back at the intrusive monster with clear distrust, some even rushing into their homes to hide while others stood stock still to watch. The monster hurried to walk closer beside Papyrus, reaching for his hand with trembling fingers that didn’t jar him from his ‘amazing adventurous tale’. The glove felt warm in a way they hadn’t expected, and they almost stumbled enough that he finally paused in his story, and both brothers peered at them at once. 

"Frisk?" Papyrus asks in confusion, his thin eyebrows already curled up in a similar fashion as if he was wholly unaware of the tension around them all. The child in question only bleats out a nervous reply, almost walking into his steady gait in an effort to hide behind his far larger and stronger form. Sans brings a hand to pat down their back a few soft times. The touch is a rather minor comfort against the borderline hostile faces that watched them, but Frisk’s muzzle shot him a thin smile to thank him for it. Sure, it was maybe only ten bizarre humans gathered in total, but ten could still do the damage of a mob. They did not feel very safe among their human friends at all, and perhaps it showed in the planes of their face enough that the taller brother had an empathetic expression as they walked closer towards the central square.

“It’s alright Frisk, we’ll keep you safe.” Papyrus assures, and it’s by then that most of the humans have stopped moving entirely, their breath held tight in their chests like they could somehow exhale all at once to dispel what was bothering them. Something needed to change, needed to be different and it seemed the brothers were aware of the rising tension at last. Sans smiled, patting Frisk’s back again, before turning to look at a particular woman. Her brown eyes looked pale and shrunken, trembling as the dawning of what Frisk was became more and more apparent in her mind.

“Morning Kailasa.” Sans greets softly, waving at her and her bunny rabbit like they were friends. The woman Kailasa didn’t reply, instead she scooped down to get her pet into the safety of her arms and turned around, hurrying back to her house without a word. Frisk already worried that Sans would be hurt by this, and reached for his hand to tug them back. Maybe they could find an alternate route, somewhere around the town-

“Morning Krungthep!” Papyrus calls out to a group of gathered boys, erratically waving his arm at them like he’d soon rush to the other for an excited, youth laced embrace; though it only made the one stomp out his cigarette and the other boggle visibly from the action.

“Morning, Silom! Morning, Beirut!” That seems to disband the group of men by the store as they retreated inside with beady eyes and hunched shoulders, almost slamming the door behind them if the floppy thing hadn’t caught too much wind to slow and clack closed. Frisk knew they were not welcome here, not at all, and they tugged more insistently on the hands of their friends. It went ignored a time, more doors shutting and shutters being drawn or metal sheets hung up to obscure the windows. The village was quickly becoming deserted.

“It’s alright Frisk.” Papyrus cheers excitedly, waving at the little eyes peering at them until they too disappeared behind sheets and curtains. Sans hums thoughtfully, scratching at the shaved hair on his neck and cheek idly as the trio passed the Christmas tree and began to move past the library. It was clear by then that it was time to keep moving along, though the little monster still took their time looking around to try and spot others who may be lurking… Frisk’s muzzle turned up, reading the signs in a font they could still strangely understand. What a bizarre library. It had parts of different billboards and plating with letter layered together in order to make the title of the building. Though they understood quickly that the place’s name had been misspelled, it was all because of one graphic with too many letters rather than negligence of the proper lettering.

“Heh, yeah.” Sans murmurs, catching their attention as he points. “There’s an extra set because Snowdin couldn’t manage to tear the metal any smaller than that. But we all know it’s the library.”

“And not the Librarary!” Papyrus chirps with abundance of enthusiasm, chuckling softly as they stroll casually passed the boarded windows, with a little face watching them from a crack in the glass. Frisk averted their eyes, not wanting to see how many more people would be staring them down. It didn’t feel very good to be treated like that, anyway. Though, the door opened with a short cry, and Frisk was whirling their head around… to see a young kid about their age charging full force towards them. In quick succession, they see the orange and beige stripes of the child’s sweater, as well as the two arm braces that pinned their arms to their front with straps and clasps that glinted in the light. The spiked, fly-away being of the child’s hair clashed with the dark tan brown of their skin, and their gap toothed smile.

Frisk felt drawn to this kid in a strange way, though panic was still the strongest. Instantly, they felt their body jump on alert; their tail came up, a near bleat of panic made and they jumped, settling to try and dash in front of Papyrus to hide- The child skidded, their foot slipping on some rubbish hidden beneath the snow, and the child wailed before face planting.

All at once, gravity held tight, and Frisk stared at the poor kid who’d fallen with distress, as Papyrus and Sans turned around to inhale softly in shock. Without a single thought, they ran forward, scattering snow. Tension was heavy around them, faces watching… a woman gasped but they pay it no mind. The child sniffled, clearly in pain from their tumble but without arms… Frisk grabbed onto the child’s shoulders with firm and gentle hands before giving them a helpful heave, tugging their fallen friend up onto their knees. The human child gasps and coughs, clearing their mouth and face of snow, despite the injured looking nose. Frisk is eager to bring up their sleeve to rub it better, gently grooming the sharp crystals of snow out of the way and around the kid’s eyes… Their golden colour are watching, awed and open, bright and wide as the human child smiles, and give a small bleat in assurance.

“U-Uh… S-Sorry…” The Kid squeaked out, and Frisk patted their shoulder gently before standing up, and offering with their hands to stand. The human blinked, glanced down, glanced up, glanced back down… and slowly nodded. “P-Please… I-I need help, standing…” They murmur softly, gently, and by then… the people are shocked. The humans that had been hiding were peering openly at the situation, blind to its interconnected relevance… All they see, is the monster child grasping beneath the braces of the strapped child, and helped them to their feet with a huff and warble. Sans and Papyrus are suddenly there beside them, smiling their cued and bright smiles as the Kid shook themselves off. There’s a soft laugh from Frisk as snow slips into their collar, and the human child squeaks loudly and with a creak before shaking their dead weight arms side to side to try and get it to fall out.

Frisk obliges helpfully, dusting their paws over the sweater and tugging it around to free the half melted chunk.

“Thanks, m-man-! I’m Kid, uh, just Kid.” The child introduces, and Frisk’s ears flap faintly with a nod of their head. The roundness of the child’s face and the fly-away hair make them look like they’d just gotten out of bed, and the look was rather cute to see. Frisk gestures a wave, and towards Sans, who seems to get it without even needing a clarification.

“Their name is Frisk.” Sans answers with a grin, showing the planes of his flat, jagged teeth, and they flip their head quickly to smile and dip their head to him in thanks. Kid looks between the two, their bucked teeth catching their chapped lips as they start to step from foot to foot with budding excitement.

“Frisk huh? Cool! That’s such a cool name-“ They start to gush audibly, rosy cheeks bright against their olive skin despite its paleness. Maybe they didn’t get to go outside very much-

“KID!” Shrieks a female voice, and it's then that the group of four all swing their heads around to peer out at the outcry. A woman stood by the library, her flyaway sandy hair the same trait as theirs that linked them visibly together. Her panic was visible, and the tremble of her shoulders showed how badly she’d been shaking before she had the strength to shout out to them. Kid blanched and hunched their head into their shoulders with guilt, realizing by meeting her eyes just what they’d managed to do. Frisk by habit imitated the same, looking down trodden for her obvious panic and fear in the gaunt lines of her face.

“Here! Now!” She commands with a pointed gesture of her index towards her feet, head lifting like a proud goose defending her turf, and the response was immediate. The child turns and weakly smiles to the one who helped them up.

“Th-Thanks, for not leaving me on the ground…!” They dip their head like it’s a salute, and Frisk recalls that their arms are bound around their chest to prevent a farewell from their hands… and the child picks up, trudging through the snow like playing leap frog towards their guardian. With that departure, much of the tension of the staring faces calm… and Sans pats Frisk’s back.

“C’mon, time to go see our Cool House.” His grin is telling, and they snort softly with some frustration. Their red eyes turn to peer at the retreat of their ally, and… well, they see that most of the humans are retiring again. Seems they’ve proven a point somehow. That’s fine with them, really…

“You mean ‘The Brother’s House Of Cool’!” Papyrus corrects with pride, beaming as together they take Frisk by their arms to turn them about and begin to plod along like nothing had stopped them prior. It was a very short little jaunt, the building obvious to Frisk like it had always been visible before… though they feel somehow this was more the brother’s doing than a trick of the road and the icy lake behind it. Before the seasonal decor and dim, turned off lights… sat two post boxes with Sans and Papyrus’ names on them in a rather crooked, almost immature looking scrawl. It seemed only Sans’ was stuffed full of letters and scrolls, bowing to one side from the weight and looked ready to snap at any moment. Papyrus’ gleamed like it had been freshly painted, and the arrow was down to signal it was empty.

Frisk decided to slow a little, allowing Papyrus and Sans to lead as they take a moment to look over the building itself. The Brother's House Of Cool was... rather poorly maintained, to say the least. Just from looking at it, Frisk could tell that many times it had been repaired and patched up, but from a single glance the shed beside the house looked ages better than the house itself. Did they really live in there? Sans rested a hand on Frisk's shoulder with a small squeeze, and they held their hands against their chest with nerves. They didn't really want to be anywhere near these decrepit buildings at all. 

Even the roof had patches of rocks carved in flats to hold over holes and hold up tarps, and some sections looked to almost be smoking. Mostly to the right side of the household, but still. It was partly nerve wracking to simply let Papyrus fling open the door, turning to give his brother and companion a smile before taking off inside. Soon, Sans touched their mid back, and slowly Frisk advanced. How spooky it was, to walk simply over the threshold into an entirely new atmosphere. 

The walls were clean, not a single stain or strip of wall paper out of place, as it met a tidy floor. Frisk only notices the sock by the wall because everywhere else was so clean, that they nearly scowl at it for being so offensive. Papyrus had already tossed off his moccasins onto a snow trap before plunging forward into the living room. There's such youth in how he laughs, twisting around as he launched himself backwards onto the couch. 

Frisk gingerly walked up to the greeting mat and rubbed their feet, cleaning it of dirt and rock to be polite and thoughtful to their hosts. Sans nearly forgets, walking into the main lobby before a pillow flew right before his nose, stopping him still without even a flinch. 

"Brother!" Papyrus shrieked, and Frisk held their ears up in alarm like another fight was going to go down. Instead, the taller boy ruffled his unshaved hair with a groan. "Take your shoes off inside!!!" 

Sans blinks tiredly, his left eye rising to widen in that weird way he does before glancing down with a toe wiggle. He smiles, papping his right cheek with a chuckle. 

"Aw shucks bro, nearly forgot. Thanks." Papyrus gives a shrill screaming sound in disbelief accentuated only by the upwards toss of his hands. Sans continued to chuckle, turning around to slowly kick off his shoes, using the toes to work his heels up, hands in his pockets... why didn't he just lean forward? Why was he so lazy? Frisk sniffed in disbelief as they watched Sans yawn like he’d just woken up and shuffled to drag his foot out. It looked like so much effort that it must have been worse to do it his method than to lean down and use his hands to tug down the heel.

"Sans, you are INFURIATING." His brother said with disdain, already hurrying off towards the stairs to hunt down the necessary blankets. The commotion feels habitual enough between the two that Frisk finds themselves skittering a little closer, wondering why the two were so... active like this. Weren't they tired? The thought dawns on them suddenly that they continued to anticipate an adult figure to come in and silence the boys from their behaviour, but no such figure would come. Rather, the two were the adults in this situation, weren’t they? No mother to announce dinner or father to come home and demand tasks be done. No parents were here to quiet them from the slightest noise or safeguard their unruly behaviour.

Such realizations had Frisk feeling uncertain and disjointed. It was nearly dinner time, but it didn’t seem to mean much anymore. What would they do with themselves now? Wait sometime longer? Sit down? What did they do in a situation like this…? Before, their breath could speed up further and the anxiety of further uncertainty swallow down their thoughts… The answer comes in the form of a shower of sheets and pillows onto the couch, and an excitable Papyrus leaping down onto it. The resulting crash had them freeze up a moment to simply watch the scene unfold. 

There curled the taller human, rolling about on the cushions like he was but a young boy without a care in the world. This way and that, his arms wound around the comforter and blankets like donning armour. Every motion lacked coordination or control, simply done in the spur of it until the gangly limbs and half shaven head disappeared beneath the disheveled and stained looking sheets. Sans glanced to Frisk, gesturing with his hand to join them as he shuffled up onto the couch, reaching his brother’s line of sight and began to help stuff pillows into the gaps left behind, grinning the whole while. It’s only once the two settle down, turning to look to Frisk as one that the monster child decide to risk it. One foot at a time… they make the ten paces to the couch, and turn to hop up onto the cushion. The moment they were settled, Sans and Papyrus lifted a spare blanket that felt from nowhere, and tucked it over their laps in a big cover. 

Then, Papyrus scooted a little closer, arm draped behind their head, and smiled down upon them like they’d given him a beautiful gift. Gathered together in front of the tv like this felt… alien. Rather, Frisk couldn’t stop themselves from over thinking this over and over again. The way their folded leg sat against Papyrus’ thigh beneath the blanket kept jumping to the top of their mind, and their jaw started to hurt from how tight they kept grinding it with nerves. Would he feel how hot they were? How their legs couldn’t stop shaking with anxiety as Sans slumped beside them with more comfort and real contact than they’d ever managed to have in their life. It’s by then that the silence carries on for far too long, and Sans reaches for the remote.

“Maybe something to do, hmm?” Sans said without much forethought, using one hand to stifle a yawn as the other aims the massive brick thick box at the television, and clicks the large red button. Nothing happens. He clicks it again with a familiar insistence, and a third time. The TV flickered on after the fourth press of the button, and the sound it made was like a generator turning on. The fans clicked as they activated, powered to keep it cool as the screen finally tuned in... to some bizarre looking cooking show. Everything was a garish pink, a striking black or a strange hybrid in between. There was no rhyme or reason beyond the clear preference for the two shades, and the lighting was either a soft rose to accentuate it all or it was white to illuminate the glossy deep black of the stage area. 

Despite the feed back from trying to display such a poor signal, the upbeat tune managed through the massive speakers, coiling around Frisk's head like an enchanting song. They shivered as Sans and Papyrus seemed completely drawn in. They had tuned in mid episode, revealing the host who was busy cutting the stage kitchen’s island in half with a chainsaw. The Attendant (or Guest, Frisk didn't know which would be worse.) was sprayed down with the liquefied remains of the meal, shocked still with hands balled by their sides in what Frisk could assume was terror.

A laugh track cues on, and the host pulls up their head, shielded in a black helmet to flash icons to the audience. More of a mask than an actual protection module, the host drew up white gloved hands and posed a black clad leg so that they seemed to shine with glossy zeal to the applause. Maybe it was plastic or leather, but the quick and almost mechanically jerky movements of the body made it hard to tell. The shiny one piece suit made their... masculine figure entirely apparent as he hoisted his prize above his head with one single hand.

"Seems even the might of marble stands no chance against the MTT Brand Chainsaw!" He exclaims with excitement, gesturing a hand up with a flourish. “This amazing and dazzling piece of hardware is handy for all kinds of situations! All you need to do is apply it’s use to any situation and your every problem will simply be swept away! My handy MTT Brand Chainsaw can also be yours, for an easy payment of…!” He flourished his hand again, snapping his fingers as a sign clicked on behind him. A few lights blew in the corner with a shower of sparks as a ridiculous price glitched on for the audiences to see. 299 gold?

"Now, my darling audience! Please applaud our guest for joining the marvellous Mettaton on stage!" The man gestures wildly to toss his saw off stage before setting a hand towards the plastered woman, who seemed too dazed to realize what was going on and applauded to herself as well. The laugh track cued again as two stage hands moved in to help usher her off, leaving the man to begin prattling off phone numbers and mail order forms that Frisk ignored. 

"Pretty cool huh?" Papyrus peeped with a sort of restrained energy, hands held to his cheeks as the very whites of his eyes glimmered with excitement. Frisk turned their mop of hair towards him, looking up and down over the curled sheets and their stained and aged patterns before snuffling at him. There is only a small giggle before he continues on.

"That's Mettaton! The most famed star in the underground! He can do anything you can think of." He points to the screen as the audience shrieks with dazzled delight, but Frisk prefered watch how Papyrus' face moved and emotes. How different from monster kin it remained to be, but they felt warmth from him already.

"Juggle! Sing! Rodeo! Dance! Chop a brick wall in half with his gloved hand!" The tallest brother makes a 'hyyyaaaaa' kind of sound effect and slides an open and rigid hand forward. From Frisk's other side, Sans mouths a breaking effect. The monster whips their head to look at him, but the stout and shorter human is boredly watching the television, coloured squares reflected in his eyes. 

"Mettaton is the most incredible star the underground has ever seen! And he makes everything we use! MTT brand tvs! Dishwashers! Fridge sets! Even products like hair gel and dish soap!" Papyrus continued to gush, his legs flicking up in turn before wiggling back towards the couch. Frisk nearly though his hands should be holding swing rope for how much he was wiggling and gesturing like this. So much energy! 

"Though they always smell bizarrely like leather and formaldehyde." Sans included with a yawn, palming towards his mouth. It's a short window but Frisk catches the two holes where his lower canines should be, and squints harder in his direction. The man only smirks a little further. 

"He is the biggest source of entertainment the underground has ever known. He and his partner have developed so many forms of solidifying magic and making it into easily distributed power sources. It’s thanks to him that every household can cook a meal and use free running water without any metals or toxins in it.” 

The words held so much more weight than before, and Frisk kept their eyes on Sans even as the screen flashed in many more crazy colours. The awes and screams of excitement sounded far, far away, and the laughter of the host was nearly manic and crazed. Still, Frisk could feel the eyes of the two brothers upon them entirely. This Mettaton gave the humans a chance to lead safer lives… He must be important. And at that… the underground, must not be as safe for the Humans as they had thought. They gesture with their hand, and when the blank look remains they shrug their shoulders to show their confusion. There’s a collective ‘ahhhh’ moment between the two, and though Papyrus breathes in to show that he would reply, it’s Sans that continues.

“The underground is not a very self sufficient place. It’s because of Asgore’s team of leading scientists that there’s such a high survival rate down here to begin with.”

“Doesn’t help that most humans who are born down here can barely use magic anymore!” Papyrus pipped up next, winding himself up tighter like a wiggling cocoon as he tried to hide his face. It barely muffled his voice but it felt like confusing behaviour to witness. Maybe it was more common for humans to hide themselves like this, for some reason. Frisk wouldn’t know, and gently patted Papyrus’ shoulder with some empathy. It must be hard, not being able to use magic… though they weren’t entirely familiar with their own yet either. School lessons didn’t cover that far. “The further the lineage goes, the less potent their magic becomes until one day, all that’s left is the soul sense.”

Sans nods his head lightly, and together the two make a soft pulse of their souls. Frisk’s replies without a thought, and their bright vibrant red overshadows their combined blue shades. It feels like a gauge, a test. Like two field mice sitting beside a massive and ancestral rat, baring teeth and flicking whiskers as they compared their tails. The two watch Frisk in unison, and the idea that they’ve missed some context here settles on their breast. So they give a point and shrug, their only real means of communicating their confusion. 

“Do you not know magic?” Papyrus asked, freeing a hand to touch at his face lightly as he peered down to the monster with further enforced interest. Shying back, Frisk nodded their head meekly. All monsters are born of magic, and use magic freely. It was never, a concept to them that someone could be without it, though they know very little to boot. There’s a hum from Sans, who leans back like he was to take a nap... 

“Do you know how to use magic, Frisk?” Sans said next, reaching up to scratch at the growing hair on his chin. This time, the monster child shook their head, only interrupted by the tv to jump a little at an explosive noise effect. Soon after, the volume’s already being turned down to something more manageable, and the child sighs a bit to relax.

“Well, that’s not a good thing. Education is power! Knowledge is protection!” Papyrus boasted confidently, arching up as pillows fell to the floor before leaning in a little closer like he was about to share a deep secret. Frisk swallowed nervously, and tucked their hands before them like they were protecting their core. The taller human then winked.

“I know just what to do in this situation then, Frisk! Nyeh heh heh!”

With that, he suddenly leapt up and stood tall, arching an arm up over his head before spinning around and pointing to Frisk. The child flinched from the action, afraid of being struck or something worse, though nothing presented itself further.

“I, Papyrus the Great, will teach you how to fight with magic!” The declaration had him puff his chest up with pride, almost striking another pose before his excitement gets the better of him. His long legs seem to wobble a little as he starts to move side to side, almost swaying with the energy that seemed to make his darker skin almost gleam. “We’ll spar and practice out by the shed! It’s the perfect place, I’ll be your mentor-! Wowie I’m so excited- I know! We should get to it right away-!” 

It’s then that Sans kisses his teeth, and sits up a little to pat his hand to the child’s shoulder. Papyrus stops, blinking like he was suddenly unsure of what he’d been doing, and hands to his cheeks like they were stuck he turned to peer at his brother. 

“Now now, Papyrus. It is quite late.” Sans scolded softly, tut tut-ing playfully as his brother relaxed and began to softly laugh. Things were okay, and Frisk was able to relax a little too. Everything was fine… and they didn’t need to worry. Not when they were blissfully surrounded by the warmth and energy these two possessed. The assurance was kindly and nice, and Frisk found themselves able to better relax in response. Yeah… made sense. “Now is the time for bed and relaxing, not training.”

“Ah, you’re right! It is quite late, isn’t it! Nyeh heh, got ahead of myself a little!” Propping himself up, Papyrus gave another avid spin, and hurried to leap onto the couch with a bounce of the cushion. It took a moment for his weight to settle down and Frisk’s in reply to the energy transfer. With a little shuffle he cured up to flop his arm behind Frisk again, nestling close to the other like personal space was no longer required. Sans had started softly laughing, palming over his mouth like he could hope to quell the sound. Though his eye peeked at the monster, who looked bewildered at each in turn. 

“Maybe a lil’.” Sans agreed, and gave another yawn. This time… Frisk began to yawn too. “I think it’s bed time.” 

“Awwwww, guess so.” Papyrus slumped, leaning back onto the couch like he would soon pass out there and then, before Sans leaned over to pat his knee and have him lift his head again. 

“Not here, Papyrus. Upstairs. In your bed.” There’s a bit of a snort to his tone, almost like a parent scolding a child for something quite obvious. The taller brother pouted and almost began to sulk, nearly opening his mouth before Sans leaned up to press a finger to his lips and stop him from starting. “C’mon. Sleepovers can wait. The kid needs to sleep, and you’ll keep them up asking questions all night.” 

The brother sags with clear defeat, hands in his lap and a soft whine escaping his lips. Frisk could read this behaviour as quite upset, and they felt almost compelled to act from how… powerful the gesture came off as. Was Papyrus truly this upset over a simple parting like this? Even for one night? Frisk felt the burning desire inside themselves to console him, and with a small clutch of their hand, they reached forward to touch his knee. Moist, beautiful hazel eyes blinked and peered over to them, nearly ready to shed tears until their humble smile was read. 

“Oh, I can’t help but be assured by such a warm gaze, Frisk!” He gushed out softly, reaching his hands forward to them with open invitation. Even his smile turns to one side, and the open softness in his form just beckons to Frisk. The monster finds themselves shivering, their fur wavering from the very curl of flesh around their talons, up their soles and over their knees to curl behind their spine and settle in their scalp. The prickling awareness has their hair lift a little, and the smile on the human’s face almost breaks into a full toothy one at the sight of it. 

Papyrus was asking for a lot of trust, here, and Frisk felt afraid for a sharp and jabbing moment. Toriel had swept in, and settled over everything. They didn’t have much choice but to fold to her before, and so their challenge of her authority had been an intense one. This time, though, the contrast was hugely apparent. They could choose not to. They could literally say no, and the certainty that Papyrus would step down backed it up. This feeling, this knowledge allowed them to gather their courage, settle their fears… and reach back out to him. Their hands meet, and pass. The human slowly draws Frisk into his front, holding around them like he was rejoining with someone long estranged for the first time.

It felt, odd. Cozy, but unfamiliar. Their cheek tucked against his collarbone, their hands meeting behind his back as his head fell to their shoulder in turn. A true hug. A genuine, heartfelt embrace, with no pressure or expectancy from them. Their senses skyrocketed, and hyper aware of the man’s heat against their body, they could sense Sans too. The man’s arm pat gently down their back, offering his own kind of emotional outreach and bond. 

Then, all of a sudden, it was too much. Despite everything that had happened today, Frisk realized that they could only hold onto so much in this bizarre and darkened world before they… began to lose control. This manifested in the soft, tiny shaken bleat that passes their lips before they squeeze to Papyrus more tightly. The underground had been nearly nothing but hostility until these two came along, and the fear of being alone followed their every step like a shadow. Another breath in, another shaky sound…. 

The three held close to each other, in a connected embrace that was tenuous and fragile, but wholesome and uplifting. 

The night spend here, would be restful and safe.


	7. Orientation for Beginners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk dwells on much of their current situation, and training takes a good foundation.

The whole night was an adventure. Toriel's home had been quiet and distant. Everything felt big, and far... far away. Sleep had come easily there, fueled by the shock of arrival and the floating uncertainty of their future. Because exhaustion creeped forth and drained their thoughts into a void, spinning around questions that lingered still. The constant drip and shift had Frisk’s mind amble to focus on productive thoughts, though they desperately tried to cut each tendril clean for silence. 

Here... everything was stuffier. Closed in, compressed. Papyrus' breathing could be heard through the walls, and Frisk spent most of their waking hours staring holes into the plaster effect ceiling. Every now and again, they could hear Sans get up in his room, move around a little for a few minutes before settling back to bed. Then, eventually, Sans' soft breathing would start up too. No matter what rhythm Papyrus was producing, Sans eventually synced right up to it and the two would sleep in soft breathy harmony. It was kind of endearing, but distracting. The monster child turned over onto their back, huffing softly and closing their eyes again.

Soft little hands folded neatly on their chest, Frisk held tightly to their blankets and locket with some nervousness. This... was the closest to rest they were probably going to get. Despite the lingering worries and everything that had happened… this was nice enough. It was warm, and dry. A glass of water sat beside them on the little table, and Papyrus left them cookies in case their appetite flared in the night. He was oddly thoughtful, despite the pressing urgency of getting home, getting out of here...

It was just... so much to take in. They focused on looking around, drawing at strings and items to press over the anxiety that snapped like crocodiles in some cartoon horror. The home felt well loved and lived in, with little eccentricities that reflected the brothers so warmly. Homier than Toriel's, for certain... but just as detached and strange. Perhaps their lack of a real home would make any house feel strange and unreal, they reasoned to themselves. Slowly, the more they thought, the more tired they became. Papyrus' words lingered still, like a balloon lifted by a new draft of wind. Great. Their thoughts continued on.

Training. Soul training.

Did they really need to know how to fight? Was it truly going to save them struggle? Probably not, but maybe it would help keep them safe. They had no way of knowing if other humans would be as kind as the brothers. Or cautious and distant like the villagers. Most would… probably lunge at the chance to take their life… A shudder passes over them, and Frisk rolled over to avoid seeing the glaring time from the brother's pvr.

Frisk didn't want to count how much time they had left, anxious about the coming morning and what training they would be roped into. Especially thinking back to what had happened with Toriel... They hoped she was okay. Tightness built in their chest, and Frisk battled with their thoughts as sleep drifted in and out like skirting paper on a sudden breeze. 

Papyrus was up far before they felt ready, shuffling around in his room with what Frisk assumed was to dress himself. They waited, half asleep half aware, to hear him start... huffing. There was a little thump and a sharp exhale, and the rhythm kept up. Exercising? Was he doing jumping Jacks? The thought had their face scrunch up, and they just listened quietly to his routine. It sounded like a lot of lunges and squats, though he could be up to something else entirely for all they knew. Another round done, another excited sound and Papyrus was there, lunging out from his door to strut and perk out his chest as he saluted. The guy was fully dressed again, though he wore an actual shirt this time. 

"Morning, Intrepid Trainee!" He greets with the utmost enthusiasm of someone who had gotten an ample amount of sleep. Frisk only huffed as their ears flopped, rolling over to try and ignore him.

"I said!" Papyrus starts again, breathing in before positively yelling from the top of his lungs. "GOOD MORNING INTREPID TRAINEE!" 

The sheer volume had them hop on the couch, clutching their blankets closer as they peered at Papyrus with obvious alarm. He had his eyes closed, already monologuing to himself. The day had only just started, and already Frisk wanted to hide away. 

"I hope you are as pumped and excited as I am to begin this training routine! I could barely sleep a wink I was so jazzed! Could you imagine? Me! The great, the stupendous! The most gallant of all the humans of Snowdin! Me, oh humble and jubilant Papyrus! A teacher?" He prattled with so much energy, gesturing side to side and hefting his finger to point and articulate. Frisk managed to calm themselves as they watched, his feet carrying him to pace circuits along the top floor hallway. 

"It is with great honour that I teach you a most practical skill! Soul fighting is such an important defense, even if you wish to never attack another person. It's incredibly useful!" He stopped, posed with an arm behind his back and an excited grin as he wiggled his eyebrows and breathed in to lift his chest and speak...

The door opens behind him and stuttered against his foot with a dull thud. A muffled sound of surprise comes, and Sans in his tired glory peers out with bleary and squinting eyes. He didn't take out his rat tail at all, and little hairs stuck up at random like a nest atop his head. Papyrus snorted and palmed his mouth with a glove, trying his hardest not to giggle as Sans slumped away from the door to lean against the frame. 

"Morning already...?" The shorter human mumbled, stifling a yawn that seemed to show how tired Frisk felt. They weren't alone, thank the stars. 

"Absolutely morning, brother! You should get yourself showered for the day!" Papyrus suggested with an almost scripted air, and Sans nodded, and shuffled inside his door to pull it closed.

"M'kay." Another little laugh is given as the taller seemed to have sobered himself up a little and began to make his way downstairs, standing before the couch and a calm seeming Frisk. They peered at him through their bangs, but he seemed to be able to meet their eyes just fine. 

"Any good training module begins with a meal! Anything you'd like for breakfast, Frisk?" They gesture simply for a bowl, and he’s already giving a nyeh heh heh of excitement before spinning in place and giving another pose.

“Perfect! I’ll set out right away and make you… oatmeal!” Papyrus exclaimed brightly and without hesitation tromped off to get things ready, missing the face Frisk made and the hand to signal at him that they meant something else. It was too late, and their fate was sealed. 

Frisk groaned, flopping back on the couch as the door upstairs opened again. Sans yawned, shuffling along as his cloths dragged beside him… there goes a sock, left on the floor as he made it across the hall… lost his shorts from his hand, and slowly shut the door on the corner of his shirt. The monster chuckled softly at the thought of him finding everything later, and shrugged with a lift of their shoulders to start their day. Though they loathed oatmeal, Papyrus was nice enough to make them something to eat, and they supposed they could toss the blankets into a bundle at the end of the couch to help. 

The material felt so much bigger than before and Frisk rolled, becoming tangled up in the draw string of the sheets before yipping and tugging. Come ooooofffffffff! They sniffed, suddenly finding themselves wound up and frustrated. Distantly, the shower water had begun running, and they knew they had maybe ten minutes before the other brother would be back. Gotta hurry and clean… Again, the monster wriggles and thrashes, kicking out and tugging hard this way and that, until finally it came undone and… promptly knocked their plate of cookies over. A hiss of air is made as they dart forward, knocking the plate askew and scattering cookies on the floor with dull thumps as they finally rolled the sheets up in a tiny messy ball and tossed it.

Now they gotta clean a mess-!

“You okay in there, Trainee?” Papyrus calls suddenly from the kitchen, and Frisk is jumping up onto all fours to start scuttling for those cookies. He can’t walk in yet! They gotta clean up first! There’s three cookies in their hand before laughter bursts to life, and Frisk jumps again- hitting their head on the underside of the table. The whimper comes and Papyrus is laughing harder, stepping in close to catch the water before it was added to the mess already.

“Friiiissk! Don’t take after my brother, now! His blankets smell like mildew when he rolls them like that! Yuck.” He chides playfully, setting the table aside with the draw of his foot curled around the leg and spots a stricken looking Frisk that he smiled upon. Though they waited, breath held and fear clutching to their chest, Papyrus put the bowl down for them to eat, and set to straighten out the sheets and fold them up.

“Come on, up you get. Eating is important! Don’t be a lazy bones too.” Papyrus continues with a teasing, jovial tone, and Frisk obeys simply because the contrast is so new and startling that it rolls them along to climb onto the couch and settle with the table near enough to look into the bow. The dry, crumbly oats they were used to seeing were immersed in a layer of water, and looked moist, nearly fluffy… and far more appetizing than they’d believed. A clip is given in thanks as they take the spoon and begin to eat.

“That’s the ticket!” He rewards with laughter, taking the sheets and pillow to the closet to put away as the water stops… and the very loud and distinct sound of the curtain being torn from the bar sharply snaps their attention. Neither seem to move in time to stop the yelp and sliding sound as Sans audibly falls in the tub… and apparently out of it too. 

“BROOOTTHEEERRRR!” Comes Papyrus’ shriek and he’s going upstairs, already prattling a mile a minute about his concern and Sans’ apparent laziness… but Frisk’s just content to eat to their own pace. The morning seems to pick up from there, Papyrus chasing his tired and fumbling brother around to get dressed as the taller human went about combing his hair nice and smooth, using gel for the stray hairs before tying down the rat’s tail and completing Sans’ look as the guy patted his brutally red cheeks and rubbed the folds over his eye with a yawn, nearly face planting and ruining it all in his own bowl of oatmeal.

The trio sat together in front of the television, watching the sleek black looking android operate more shows and twinge and glitz out like his body wasn’t as obedient as before. The brothers bickered over the value of the vegetable ribbon maker he was selling, resulting in some spots of gruel flung onto the carpet as Papyrus really got into his counter-argument. Sans seemed passive but just as engaged all at once, and the two leaned into each other more than once to butt noses together. Frisk was but a passenger to their antics, scooping more food into their mouth as the brothers swept along a routine. 

They tidied their mess as the debate continued, arguing over the logistics of making pasta out of vegetables and if the lack of starch could truly be called pasta at all. They swung arms and shifted furniture, cleaning bowls with brushes and doing dishes side by side as Frisk sat up on the chair to watch, and listen. Their bickering continued along towards pasta sauces and the true meaning of a good sauce, and suddenly two people were helping Frisk dress in a new, blue coat and wear little leg warmers over their feet (to help protect from the cold, they imagine.) 

Belly full of weird food and clutching their new coat closer to their chest, the gang of three finally left their humble abode to begin this promised regulation of training. The two moved along to talking about the methods of food smoking, and that apples gave a better flavour while Sans persisted that maple wood was best. The two traded back and forth, not once pushing Frisk to chose a side in their constant debates over the value of bark verses peel, and the benefits of using oranges instead of coal. Most of all… Frisk felt almost gifted, seeing something that most would probably never be able to understand. Most arguments they’d known erupted into anger and violence, lashing out to silence disagreement. 

Instead… The two took their opinions honestly. It may differ, but they didn’t devalue the other for it. It was just as valid, despite being against what they thought. And more curious yet… Papyrus continued to smile, laughing and screaming to echo over the frozen body of water as they came towards an alcove along the gravel beach. He seemed, genuinely happy. They huffed, confounded by such a thing as the brothers stopped in unison, and turned. Sans had his hands back in the fur lining of his hand made jacket, face creased and red as ever as he seemed to have a sheen of sweat from such a simple walk. 

Papyrus struck a pose beside his brother, making the stance look wholly dynamic as he grinned and winked towards Frisk.

“Welcome, Intrepid trainee! To your training grounds!” Papyrus hollered over the body of water, echoing as he spun around, flicking his fingers up and gestured over the vast area as he nearly slipped on the smooth, beautiful pebbles beneath the frost of their feet. Sans snorted softly, peering up at his brother with his widened eye to make sure he was okay as the taller human smoothly rubbed the sweat from his brow to give a thumbs up towards Frisk again.

“Here is where I, the Mighty, the Marvellous, the Exceptional Papyrus will teach you the basics of Soul Battle! Are you ready?” His finger comes pointing forward, and it feels so comically superhero that Frisk snorts softly, nodding their head with a wobble of their ears. “GOOD!” He declares loudly, and it’s then that Sans shuffles towards a rock, and begins to clean off the top of snow and frost for a seat as Papyrus begins to power walk towards him… then sharply veers, keeping his feet rather closely linked as he keeps going. It’s the second veer that clues Frisk to an arena, and they watch Papyrus scuttle along to make a rather well shaped rectangle for their training field. 

They clap for him gently as he twirls, showcasing his work and Sans from his new perch claps too, and grins widely as his wonderful brother bowed and accepted the praise with the rosiest of cheeks.

“Nyeh heh heh! Now, Monster!” He called loudly, and set himself inside the rectangle near his ledge, and gestured for Frisk to move. 

“The most important part is positioning! You must always start a battle in this position! All battles will begin like this!” Frisk looked to where they stood, watching their paw prints leave little melted spots and then shuffled on over towards the spot Papyrus had designated vaguely… but they got it. He cheers, excited before calming himself and returning to a more composed posture, arm behind his back like some lexicon disciple. 

“Now, because of your nature… a battle will allow you to make the first move, every time! That is… because most battles you will encounter are proposed to you or forced upon you, and they must allow you first action in return.” Papyrus explains brightly, but Frisk only blinks, confused by some of the subtexts. They rise a hand up, preparing to ask him to pause and explain further but he just keeps going.

“Have no fear! This means, you have the moment to check them! A check gives you a good idea of what’s going on. Some humans will have a very high ATK, but their DEF can be low! Use this to counter yourself, if you need to watch for their defensive tactics or not. This will be key in being able to find an opening, and run away! This should always be your tactic of choice!” He’s got a serious look in his right eye, squinting at Frisk very seriously and that clicks their maw shut. 

“Running away means you don’t risk anyone. For your safety, you should always flee! Got it?” He pressed with a squint through one eye, and Frisk cannot help but wonder which show he’d seen such a look be done… because it looks ridiculous when done in real life. They grump softly but nod, assuring the human that they’d understood. 

“Good! Now… We can practice movements for running away!” Papyrus drops into a crouch, hands wriggling in threat from anyone who had an older sibling or unruly friend would recognize instantly… a tickle threat. Frisk whined softly, looking to Sans for help… but not only had the shorter man fallen asleep already, but he slowly sank forward, and seemed to have pillowed his fall with his face. They wince in empathy, knowing full well that his neck was going to hate him later. 

“En guard, Monster!” That was the only warning they got before he was leaping after them like a sleek puma, running over the pebbles with full strides like it was a flat walkway. Frisk bleated anxiously, tail up and stiff as they turned tail and began to run, circling around towards the path-

“Can’t leave the field!!!” Papyrus accused in a high voice, shrill and sharp that had Frisk obey without really thinking as to why. Their raspy breaths peppered over the lake with bouncing ease as Papyrus’ churlish ‘Nyeh heh heh’s drowned it all out and echoed among the falling streams of water. The cavern felt smaller, for just a moment as the sound continued around them, Sans slowly tucking into a roll before laying out over the rock beach as Frisk continued to run in loops from a pursuing Papyrus.

The session was rather long, given how little progress was genuinely made, but the two tired out eventually and flopped onto the shore when Papyrus calls it off and decides that it was enough for that day. Settled together like this, the ceiling was easier to look upon. Frisk took a moment simply to take in the sight of all the glimmering, brilliant crystals, mapping them out and making shapes and faces meet. Truly, they felt like they were looking upon a new sky, and the thought of it was refreshing. It looked beautiful and Frisk was content to sit back like this and take it all in stride, allowing their breathing to settle, and waited. Papyrus sighed softly beside them as he settled his legs together and curled his arms behind his head for cushion. 

“...It’s pretty.” He whispers to them softly, catching the monster’s attention to glance over, fully expecting him to be looking up at them and nearly jumped out of their pelt when hazel eyes met theirs. They swallow, and nod stiffly. A soft, light laugh leaves him, touching every plane of his dark and smooth face. Frisk finds that he looks young, really fit and healthy, compared to the other people down here.

“The crystals… the people down here, use them like stars. Each one, has so many wishes attached.” Papyrus shifted his arm to point at one that looked particularly blue, though Frisk assumed it was the one he was pointing at specifically.

“That one… holds my dreams.” His eyes find theirs, and they snuffle softly, nodding and give him a thumbs up that has him chuckle playfully. He’s sobering his expression to look upon it again, eyes going half lidded to show his short lashes against the bridge of his nose. They study his profile for some time, watching how the soft, crisp whiteness of the frozen pliths of waterfall ice shined there with this false but gorgeous sky… And lost their focus, to look up again. Silence reigned for a little while, and eventually Papyrus continued again. 

“The surface, is a very far away place… it’s something every human down here dreams of seeing again… even those born who would have never see it.” His voice drops, bit by bit, soft and gentle as he listens and swallows a lump in his throat. This topic feels weightier than others, and Frisk flops their ears to the cold ground to listen to him more attentively. His soft eyes are boring into theirs, again. 

“For many, the only reason they have strength to keep going… is because they wait, for a monster to fall, and for freedom to come and save them.” Frisk swallows, understanding to a point what he was trying to say. They were what many have been waiting for… a tremor comes through them, and the cold smooth stones feel harsher than they did earlier. 

“I’m teaching you, because some are going to try, very very hard, to hurt you.” His face pinched, and he looked so pained and worried and sick all at once that they felt their chest clench in empathy. But Papyrus breathed softly in through his pointed nose, and kept on.

“And… you deserve, to be able to protect yourself. Just like everyone else.” He reaches over gently, gloved hand held gently forth and they reach back, accepting his hand with the squeeze he offered before sitting up. They began to move, but he held their hand steady to get their attention again. The tip of their muzzle leads, peering up into his sincere face… and they chirp in confusion. His seriousness melts away entirely and his other hand comes over to pat their fluffed head, which results in a protested rasp.

“Nyeh heh… Keep your chin up.” His hand touches the underside of their chin with a ginger tap, and his smile broadens even wider to show the gaps of his two missing teeth. “For you see, I believe in you! Now come on.” With that, their hands part, his posture shoots up, and without pause he’s running full force towards his brother to grab the poor guy by his waistband and coat to lift and… starts spinning him in massive, wide and arching circles.

“SANS WE MUST GO HOME!” Papyrus howls with fierce fire and energy, and his poor brother looks palid and worn like he’d been the one training today, whining loudly as they start heading towards shore like Papyrus would toss him. Stunned from the sudden change of pace, Frisk hopped up, hurrying after the two… before their paw slipped on the pebbles. A yip, and they flop on their rear with a scuffle. 

“MOOONNSSTTEEERRRRR FRRRIIISSSSSKK, HURRY UP!!!” Papyrus called back to them with a spinning echo, and without protest they pushed up to hop onto the bank and trail after their current keepers with a white tail flicking up behind them. Today was… pretty good, actually.

They hoped the trend would continue, at least for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one took me so long, again. It's been a lot of struggle just getting employed, making ends meet and all that fun generally life draining stuff.  
> Still plugging away at this thing... hope you guys are as excited as I am to see this thing plodding along.


End file.
